^J.l 


HISTORY  OF  SPANISH  LITERATURE. 


VOL.   II. 


HISTORY 


SPANISH    LITERATURE. 


GEORGE    TICKNOR. 


IN    THREE    VOLUMES. 
VOL.   II. 


StXTH  AAIERICAN  EDITION,  CORRECTED  AND  ENLARGED. 


BOSTON: 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY. 


Copyriglit,  1SC3, 

bt  ticknor  and  fields 

Copyright,  UTl, 

By  anna  TICKNOH. 

Copyright,  ISid, 

By  anna    E.   ticknor. 

Al!  rights  reserved. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  II. 


SECOND    PERIOD 

(  CONTINUED. ) 


CHAPTEK    V 


Didactic  Poetri 

AND  Pki 

Early  Didactic  Poetry 

.       3 

Luis  de  Escobar 

4 

Alonso  de  Corelas 

.       5 

Gonzalez  de  la  Torre 

5 

Didactic  Prose     . 

.       6 

Francisco  de  Villalobos  . 

6 

Eernan  Perez  de  Oliva 

.       9 

Juan  de  Sedeiio 

11 

Cervantes  de  Salazar   . 

.     11 

Luis  Mexia      .... 

11 

Pedro  de  XavaiTa 

.     12 

Pedro  Mexia    .... 

12 

(Jeroninio  de  Urrea 

.     13 

Palacios  Rubios 

15 

Alexio  de  Vanegas 

.     15 

.Juan  de  Avila 

15 

Antonio  de  Guevara    .... 

15 

His  Relox  de  Principes    . 

16 

His  D^cada  de  los  Cfearcs  . 

18 

His  Epistolas 

19 

His  other  Works 

20 

The  Dialogo  de  las  Leufruas    . 

21 

Its  probable  Author    .... 

22 

State  of  the  Castilian  Langiiage  from 

the  Time  of  Juan  de  Mena 

25 

Contributions  to  it    . 

25 

Dictionaries  and  Grammars 

26 

The  Language  formed 

27 

The  Dialects 

2S 

The  Pure  Castilian .... 

28 

CHAPTER    VI. 
Historical  Litkratcre. 


Chronicling  Period  gone  by 
Antonio  do  Guevara 
Florian  de  Ocampo 
Pero  Mexia 

-*.ccounts  of  the  Xew  World 
Fernando  Cortes 
Francisco  Lopez  de  Gomara 
Bemal  Diaz 


Gonzalo  Fernandez  de  Oviedo  .        .    SS 

His  Historia  de  las  Indias        .  .         39 

His  Quinquagenas        .        .  .        .42 
Bartolom(5  de  las  Casa«    ...         42 

His  Brevlsima  Relacion        .  .         .45 

His  Historia  de  las  Indias        .  ,         46 

Vaca,  Xerez,  and  Carate      .  .        .47 

Approach  to  Regular  Histoiy .  .         48 


CHAPTER    VII. 

Theatre  in  the  Time  of  Charles  the   Fifth,  and  during  the  First  Part- 
OF  the  Reign  of  Philip  the  Second. 


Drama  opposed  by  the  Church 
Inquisition  mterferes 
Religious  Dramas  continued 
Secular  Plays,  CastUlejo,  Oliva 


49    Juan  de  Paris 

49  Jaume  de  Huete 

50  ;  Agostin  Ortiz 

51  Popular  Drama  attempted 


62 

54 


55 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


T.ope  de  RueJa    .... 

.     56 

His  Two  Dialogues  in  Verse 

.     63 

His  Four  Conieduu  . 

57 

His  insufficient  Apparatus 

64 

Los  EiigaTios         .... 

5" 

He  begins  the  Popular  Drama     . 

.     66 

Medora 

58 

.Tuan  de  Timoneda  . 

66 

Kufeinia        ..... 

.     58 

His  Cornelia         .... 

.     67 

Armeliua          .... 

58 

His  Menennos  .... 

68 

His  Two  Pastoral  Colloquies 

.     59 

His  Blind  Beggars 

.     68 

His  Ten  Pasos 

G2 

CHAPTKl!    VIII. 
The.\ti:e,    coxfLLnKi). 


Followers  of  Lope  de  Rneda 
Alonso  de  la  Vega,  Cisneros    . 
Attempts  at  Seville 
Juaii  de  la  Cuevsi     . 
Romero  de  Zepeda 
Attempts  at  Valencia 
Cristoval  de  ^'irues 
Translations  from  the  Ancients 
Villalobos,  Oliva  . 
Boscan,  AbriL  .... 


(Jcronimo  Bermudez     . 
Lupercio  de  Argensola 
Spanish  Drama  to  this  Time 
The  Attempts  to  form  it  few   . 
The  Appai-atus  imperfect     . 
Connection  with  the  Hospitals 
Court-yards  in  Madrid 
Dramas  have  no  uniform  Character 
A  Xational  Drama  demanded 


78 
80 
83 
83 
84 


87 


CHAPTER    IX. 
Luis  DE  Leon. 


Religious  Element  in  Spanish   Litera- 
ture   

Luis  de  Leon 

His  Birth  and  Training 

Professor  at  Salamanca   . 

His  Version  of  Solomon's  Song   . 

His  Persecution  for  it       .        .         . 

Summoned  before  the  Inquisition 

Imprisoned       ..... 

Judgment 94 


Return  to  Salamanca  . 

.     96 

89 

Work  on  the  Canticles     . 

97 

89 

His  Names  of  Christ    . 

.     98 

89 

His  Perfect  Wife      . 

100 

90 

His  Exposition  of  Job  . 

.  100 

91 

His  Death         .        .        .        . 

.        101 

91 

His  Poetry    .... 

.  102 

92 

His  Translations 

103 

93 

His  Original  Poetrj'     . 

.  104 

94 

His  Character .        .        .        . 

106 

CH  APT  Kit    X. 
Miguel  de  Cbrv^vntes  Saavedra. 


His  Family 

His  Birth 

His  F.ducatioJi     . 

His  first  published  Verses 

Goes  to  Ital}' 

Becomes  a  Soldier 

Fights  at  Lepanto 

And  at  Tunis . 

Is  captured  at  Sea 

Is  H  Slave  at  Algiers 

His  cniid  (;;iiitivitv     . 


107 

His  Release     .... 

114 

108  1  His  desolate  Condition 

.     115 

109 

Serves  in  Portugal. 

116 

10:) 

His  Oalatea         .... 

.     116 

110 

His  Marriage  .... 

119 

no 

His  Literary  P'riends  . 

.     120 

111 

His  First  Dramas    .         ... 

120 

112 

His  Trato  de  Argel     . 

.     122 

112 

His  Xumantia 

125 

112 

Character  of  these  Dramas 

.     131 

113 

CONTENTS. 


VU 


CHAPTER    XI. 
Cervantes,  continued. 


He  goes  to  Seville 

.     132 

His  Life  tliere          .        .         .        . 

133 

Asks  Employment  in  America  . 

.     133 

Short  Poems 

134 

Tradition  from  La  Manclia 

.     135 

He  goes  to  Valladolid     . 

136 

First  Part  of  Don  Quixote 

.     137 

He  goes  to  Madrid  .        .        .        . 

137 

Relations  with  Poets  there 

.     138 

With  Lope  de  \'ega    ....  13H 

His  Novelas I4i) 

His  Viage  al  Parnaso         .         .        .  145 

His  Adjunta 146 

His  Eight  Comedias    ....  148 

His  Eight  Entrenieses     .        .         .  151 

Second  Part  of  Don  Quixote      .        .  154 

His  Sickness 155 

His  Death 156 


CHAPTER    XII. 
Cervantes,  concluded. 


His  Persiles  y  Sigismunda         .  .     158 

His  Don  Quixote,  First  Part          .  161 

His  Purpose  in  writing  it   .        .  .     162 

Passion  for  Romances  of  Chivalry  164 

He  destroys  it 165 

Character  of  the  First  Part    .        .  166 

Avellaneda's  Second  Part .         .  .     168 

Its  Character 169 


Cervantes' s  Satire  on  it  .        .        .  170 

His  own  Second  Part          .        .  .     171 

Its  Character 172 

Don  Quixote  and  Sancho   .        .  .     173 

Blemishes  in  the  Don  Quixote        .  175 

Its  Merits  and  Fame  ....  178 

Claims  of  Cervantes       .        .        .  178 


CHAPTER    XIII. 
Lope  Felix  de  Vega  Carpio. 


His  Birth 

.     180 

His  Education         .        .        .        . 

181 

A  Soldier 

.     183 

Patronized  by  Manrique 

183 

Bachelor  at  Alcala     . 

.     183 

His  Dorothea  .... 

184 

Secretary  to  Alva 

.     184 

His  Arcadia    .... 

185 

Marries 

.     187 

Is  exiled  for  a  Duel 

188 

Life  at  Valencia .... 

.     188 

Establishes  himself  at  JIadrid 

189 

Death  of  his  Wife 

Serves  in  the  Armada    . 

]\Iarries  again 

His  Children  . 

Death  of  his  Sons 

Death  of  his  Wife  . 

Becomes  a  Priest 

His  Poem  of  San  Isidro 

His  Hermosura  de  Angelica 

His  Dragontea 

His  Peregrine  en  su  Patria 

His  Jerusalen  Conquistada 


189 
190 
192 
192 
193 
193 
194 
195 
19S 
201 
203 
204 


CHAPTER    XIV. 
Lope  de  Vega,  continued. 


His  Relations  with  the  Church 

207 

His  Pastores  de  Belen 

.     207 

Various  Works       .        .        .        . 

209 

Beatification  of  San  Isidro 

.     210 

Canonization  of  San  Isidro    . 

214 

Tome  de  Burguillos   . 

.     215 

His  Gatomachia      .         .         .         . 

215 

Various  Works  .... 

.     216 

His  Novelas 

217 

He  acts  as  an  Inquisitor 
His  Religious  Poetry 
His  Corona  Tragica    . 
His  Laurel  de  Apolo 
His  Dorotea 
His  Last  Works 
His  Illness  and  Death 
His  Burial 
His  Will      . 


218 
219 
220 
221 
222 
222 
223 
224 
225 


YlU 


CONTENTS. 


C'HAPTEU    XV. 
Lope  dk  Vega,  continued. 


■Hi>  Miscellaneous  'U'orks 
Their  Character 
Hi-;  earliest  Dramas    . 
At  Valencia  . 
State  of  the  Theatre  . 
Kl  Verdadero  Aniaute    . 
El  Pastoral  de  Jacinto 
His  Mijral  Plays 
The  Soul's  Voyage 
The  Prodigal  Son   . 
The  Marriage  of  the  Soul 
The  Theatre  at  Madrid  . 
His  published  Dramas 


.    227 

Their  jireat  Number  . 

.    239 

228 

His  Dramatic  Purpose   . 

241 

.     229 

Varieties  in  his  Plays 

.     243 

230 

Comedias  de  Capa  y  Espada . 

243 

.     231 

Their  Character    •     .        • 

.     244 

232 

Their  Number 

245 

.     233 

El  Azero  de  Madrid    . 

.     245 

233 

La  Noche  de  San  Juan  . 

249 

.     234 

Festival  of  the  Count  Duke 

.     353 

235 

La  Boba  para  los  Otros  . 

254 

.     236 

El  Premio  del  Bien  Hablar 

.     255 

238 

Various  Plays 

255 

.     238 

CHAFTt 

K    XVI. 

Comedias  Heroicas    . 

Roma  Abrasada 

EI  Principe  Perfeto    . 

El  Nuevo  Mundo    . 

El  Castigo  sin  Venganza 


Lope  de  Vega,  contixued. 


257 
258 
260 
264 
266 


La  Estrella  de  Sevilla      .        .        .  270' 

National  Subjects       ....  271 

Various  Plays         ....  271 

Character  of  the  Heroic  Drama  .  273 


CHAPTER    XVII. 
Lope  de  Vega,  continued. 


Dramas  on  Common  Life  . 
El  Cuerdo  en  Casa 
La  Donzella  Teodor    . 
Cautivos  de  Argel  . 
Three  Classes  of  Secular  Plays 
The  Influence  of  the  Church . 
Religious  Plays  .        .        .        . 
Plays  founded  on  the  Bible    . 
El  Nacimiento  de  Christo   . 
Other  such  Plays    . 
Comedi.as  de  Santos    . 
Several  such  Plays 


275 

San  Isidro  de  Madrid 

.    290 

275 

Autos  Sacramentales 

292 

277 

Festival  of  the  Corpus  Christi    . 

.    293 

279 

Number  of  Lope's  Autos 

295 

281 

Their  Form         .... 

.     296 

281 

Their  Loas      .... 

297 

282 

Their  Entremeses 

.     297 

283 

The  Autos  themselves    . 

299 

283 

Lope's  Secular  Entremeses 

.     301 

287 

Popular  Tone  of  his  Drama  . 

302 

288 

His  Eclogues      .... 

.     303 

289 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 
Lope  de  Vega,  concluded. 


Variety  in  the  Forms  of  his  Dramas 
Characteristics  of  all  of  them 

Personages 

Dialogue 

Irregular  i'lots 

Hi'turv  di-rcgarded 


305 

Geography. 

.     308 

305 

Morals    .... 

309 

306 

Dramatized  Novelle   . 

.     309 

306 

Comic  Underplot    .        . 

310 

306 

Graciosos    .... 

.     311 

307 

Poetical  Stvle 

312 

Various  Measures 
Hallnd  Poetry  in  tliem    . 
I'opular  Air  of  everything 
His  Success  at  Home 
His  Success  abroad    . 


CONT 

.     318 

ENTS. 

U\^  large  Income    . 

IX 

318 

313 

Still  he  is  Poor    .... 

.     318 

.     315 

Great  Amount  of  his  Works  . 

319 

31G 

Spirit  of  Improvisation 

.     320 

.     316 

Birth  anil  Training     . 

.     322 

Exile 

323 

Public  Service  in  Sicily 

.     324 

In  Naples        .         .         •        . 

324 

Persecution  at  Home. 

.     325 

]\Iarries 

325 

Persecution  again 

.     325 

His  Sufferings  and  Death 

327 

Variety  of  his  Works 

.     327 

Many  suppressed    . 

327 

His  Poetry 

.     328 

CHAPTEPt    XIX. 

Francisco  de  Quevedo  y  Villegas. 

Its  Characteristics  . 

Cultismo 

El  Bachiller  de  la*Torre 

His  Prose  Works 

Paul  the  Sharper    . 

Various  Tracts   . 

The  Knight  of  the  Forceps 

La  Fortuna  con  Seso  . 

Visions    . 

Quevedo's  Character 


CHAPTER    XX. 


The  DRAjrA  of  Lope's  School. 


Madrid  the  Capital    . 
Its  Effect  on  the  Drama 
Damian  de  Vegas 
Francisco  de  Tarrega 
His  Enemiga  Favorable 
Gaspar  de  Aguilar 
His  Mercader  Amante 
His  Suerte  sin  Esperanza 
Guillen  de  Castro 
His  Dramas    . 
His  Mai  Casados 
His  Don  Quixote    . 
His  Piedad  y  .Justicia 
His  Santa  Barbara 
His  Mocedades  del  Cid 


.     345 

Corneille's  Cid        .        .        .        . 

346 

Guillen's  Cid       .... 

.     346 

Other  Plays  of  Guillen  . 

347 

Luis  Velez  de  Guevara 

.     348 

Mas  pesa  el  Rey  que  la  Sangi-e 

349 

Other  Plays  of  Guevara    . 

.     349 

.Juan  Perez  de  Montalvan 

351 

His  San  Patricio 

.     352 

His  Orfeo 

353 

His  Dramas        .... 

.     354 

His  Amantes  de  Teruel 

354 

His  Don  Carlos  .... 

.     355 

His  Autos       ..... 

355 

His  Theory  of  the  Drama  . 

.     357 

His  Success 

CHAPTER    XXI. 
Drama  of  Lope's  School,  concluded. 


Tirso  del  Molina 

His  Dramas    . 

His  Burlador  de  Sevilla 

His  Don  Gil    . 

His  Vergonzoso  en  Palacio 

His  Theory  of  the  Drama 

Antonio  Mira  de  Mescua    . 

His  Dramas  and  Poems 

Joseph  de  Valdivielso 


379 
379 
380 
381 
383 
386 
386 
387 


His  Autos 

His  Religious  Dramas 

Antonio  de  Mendoza 

Ruiz  de  Alarcon 

His  Dramas    . 

His  Texedor  de  Segovia 

His  Verdad  Sospechosa . 

Other  Plays 

Belmonle,  Cordero 


X 


CONTEXTS. 


Kiiriiiuez,  Villaizan    . 
S:iii<liez,  Herrera   . 
Barliadillo,  Solorzano 
I'u  In<renio     . 
El  Diablo  Predicador 


395 
396 
396 
397 
398 


Opposition  to  Lope's  School  .        .  401 

By  Men  of  Learning  ....  401 

By  the  Chuvcli       .         ...  402 

The  Drama  triumphs         .         .  404 

Lope's  Fame 405 


C'lIAPTKi;   XXII. 
Pedro  Caldeiion  de  la  Bakc.v. 


Birth  and  Family        ....  407 

Kducation 408 

Festivals  of  San  Isidro  *  .        .        .409 

Serves  as  a  Soldier         .        .        .  409 
Writes  for  the  Stage  .         .         .         .410 

Patronized  by  Philip  the  Fourth    .  410 

Rebellion  in  Catalonia        .        .         .  410 

Controls  the  Theatre       .         .         .  411 

Filters  the  Church      ....  411 

Less  favored  by  Charles  the  Second  412 

Death  and  Burial        ....  413 

Person  and  Character    .        .        .  414 

His  Works 415 

His  Dramas  - 416 


Many  falsely  ascribed  to  him 
The  Numi)er  of  the  Genuine 
His  Autos  Sacramentales  . 
Feast  of  tlie  Cdrpus  Christi 
His  different  Autos     . 
His  Divino  Orfeo    . 
Popularity  of  his  Autos     . 
His  Heligious  Plays 
Troubles  with  the  Church  . 
Ecclesiastics  write  Plays 
Caldcron's  Sun  Patricii) 
His  Devocion  de  la  Cruz 
His  Magico  Prodigioso 
Other  shnilar  Plays 


417 
420 
421 
422 
424 
425 
428 
429 
430 
430 
431 
433 
434 
437 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 
Caldekox.  continued. 


Characteristics  of  his  Drama 
Trusts  to  the  Story 
Sacrifices  much  to  it  . 
Dramatic  Interest  strong 
Love,  .Jealousy,  and  Honor 


439 
440 
441 
442 


Amar  despues  de  la  Muerte   . 
Kl  Medico  de  su  Honra 
El  Pintor  de  su  Deshonra 
El  Mavor  Jlonstruo  los  Zelos 


443  I  El  Principe  Constante 


443 
447 
450 
451 
456 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 
Caldehox,  concluded. 


Comedias  de  Capa  y  Espada      .        .  461 

Antes  que  Todo  as  mi  Dama .        .  462 

La  Dama  Duende        ....  463 

La  Vaiida  y  la  Flor         .         .         .  406 

Various  Sources  of  Calderon's  Plots  469 

Castilian  Tone  everywhere    .        .  472 

Exaggerated  Sense  of  Honor      .         .  473 

Domestic  Authority        .        .        .  473 

Duels 4.74 


Immoral  Tendency  of  his  Dramas  475 

Attacked 475 

Defended        .        .                 .         •  475 

Calderon's  courtly  Tone     .        .        .  476 

His  Stj'le  and  Versification     .        .  478 

His  long  Success         ....  480 

Changes  the  Drama  little                .  481 
But  gives  it  a  lofty  Tone    .         .         .482 

His  Dramatic  Character         .        .  483 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

DkAMA   ok    CALDErtnx's    ScHOOL. 


Most  Brilliant  Period . 
Agustin  Moreto 
His  Dramas 


486 
486 
487 


Figuron  Plays  .         . 

El  Lindo  Don  Diego    . 
El  Desden  con  el  Desdeu 


488 
488 
489 


CONTENTS. 


XI 


Francisco  de  TJoxns    . 

.     491 

His  Dramas     .... 

491 

Del  Rey  abaxo  Niiii^nno 

.     492 

Several  Authors  to  one  Play  . 

495 

Alvaro  Cubillo   .... 

.     495 

Leyba  and  Cancer  y  Velasco 

497 

Enriquez  Gomez 

.     497 

Sigler  and  Zabaleta 

498 

Fernando  de  Zarate    . 

.     498 

Miguel  de  l>arrios  . 

499 

Diamante 

.     499 

ilonteser,  Cuellar  . 

500 

Juan  de  la  Hoz  .... 

.     501 

Juan  de  Matos  Fragoso  . 

502 

Sebastian  de  Villaviciosa 

Antonio  de  SoKs 

Francisco  Banzes  C-andamo 

Zarzuelas    . 

Opera  at  Madrid 

Antonio  de  Zamora     . 

Lanini,  Martinez    . 

Rosete,  Villegas 

Joseph  de  Canizares 

Decline  of  the  Drama 

Vera  y  Villaroel 

Inez  de  la  Cruz  . 

Tellez  de  Azevedo 

Old  Drama  of  Lope  and  of  Calderon 


502 

.     504 

10  .         .          500 

.     508 

509 

.     510 

511 

.     511 

511 

.     5i:j 

514 

.     514 

514 

f  Calderon     514 

CHAPTER    XXVI. 


Nationality  of  the  Drama  . 
The  Autor  of  a  Company 
Relations  with  the  Dramatists 
Actors,  their  Number    . 
The  most  distinguished 
Their  Character  and  hard  Life 
Exhibitions  in  the  Daytime 
Poor  Scenery  and  Properties 
The  Stage  .... 
The  Audience 
The  Mosqueteros 
The  Gradas,  and  Cazuela 
The  Aposentos    . 
Entrance-money 
Rudeness  of  the  Audiences 
Honors  to  the  Authors   . 
Play-bills    .... 


Old  Theatre. 

.    515 

Titles  of  Plays 

526 

516 

Representations  .... 

.     527 

.     516 

Loa 

527 

518 

Ballad 

.     528 

.     519 

First  .Jornada 

529 

520 

First  Entremes   .... 

.     530 

.     522 

Second  Jornada  and  Entremes 

531 

522 

Third  Jornada  and  Sajmete 

.     531 

.     523 

Dancing          .... 

531 

523 

Ballads 

.     532 

.     523 

Xacaras          .... 

532 

524 

Zarabandas          .... 

.     5G3 

.     524 

Popular  Character  of  the  Drama 

534 

525 

Great  Number  of  Authors 

.     53.3 

.     525 

Royal  Patronage     . 

53? 

526 

Great  Number  of  Dramas 

.     538 

.     526 

All  National  .... 

539 

CHAPTER    XXVII. 

ISTORICAI.  AND   NARRATIVE   POEMS. 


Old  Epic  Tendencies  .... 

541 

Galn-iel  Lasso  de  la  Vega  . 

.     555 

Revived  in  the  Time  of  Charles  the 

Antonio  de  Saavedra 

555 

Fiftli 

542 

Juan  de  Castellanos    . 

555 

Hieronimo  Sempere 

542 

Centenera       .... 

556 

Luis  de  Capata 

543 

Caspar  de  Villagra 

.     557 

Diego  Ximenez  de  Ayllon 

544 

Religious  NaiTative  Poems    . 

558 

Hippolito  Sanz 

544 

Hernandez  Blasco 

.     558 

Espinosa  and  Coloma     . 

545 

Giibriel  de  Mata 

558 

Alonso  de  Ercilla        .... 

545 

Cristoval  de  Virues    . 

.     558 

His  Araucana         .... 

548 

His  Monserrate 

559 

Diego  de  Osorio 

552 

Nicholas  Bravo  .... 

.     560 

Pedro  de  Ofia          .... 

554 

Joseph  de  Valdivielso    . 

560 

xu 


CONTEXTS. 


Diego  de  Hojeda     . 

561 

Hernando  Dominguez  Camargo     . 

o6a 

His  Christiada    .        .        .        . 

.     561 

Juan  de  Encisso  y  iIon(;on 

.     563 

Alonso  Diaz    .... 

562 

Imaginative  Epics  .        .         .        . 

564 

Antonio  de  Escobar   . 

.     562 

Orlando  Fnrioso 

.     564 

Alonso  de  Azevcdo 

562 

Nicolas  Espinosa    .        .        .        . 

564 

Caiidivilla  Santaren    . 

.     562 

Martin  de  Holea 

567 

Kodrijiuez  de  Vargas 

563 

Garrido  de  ^'illena 

567 

•Facobo  L'ziel       .        .        .        . 

.     563 

Agustin  Alonso  .... 

.     567 

Sebastian  de  Nieva  Calvo 

563 

Luis  Harahona  de  Soto  . 

568 

Diiran  Vivas       .         .        •        . 

.     563 

His  Liigrimas  de  Angdlica 

.     568 

•Uian  Davila  .... 

563 

Bernardo  de  Balbuena    . 

569 

Autouio  Enriquez  Gomez  . 

.     563 

His  Bernardo      .... 

.     569 

CHAPTER    XXVllI. 


Subjects  from  Antiquity 
Boscan,  Vendoza,  Silvestre 
Montemayor,  Villegas 
I'erez,  Romero  de  Cepeda 
Fabulas,  Gongora 
Villaniediana,  Pantaleon 
Moucayo,  Villalpando 
^liscellaneous  Subjects  . 
Yague  de  Salas  . 
Miguel  de  Silveira  . 
Fr.  Lopez  de  Zarate   . 
Mock-heroic  Poems 
Cosme  de  Aldana 
Cintio  Merctisso 
X'illaviciosa 
(iatomachia    . 
Heroic  Poems     . 


AL  A>D  Nai:i:ative  I'oiois,  concluded. 

,     571 

Don  John  of  Austria 

582 

e    . 

571 

Hicronimo  de  Cortereal 

.     583 

.     571 

Juan  Iiufo        .... 

584 

572 

Pedro  de  la  Vezilla     . 

.    585 

.     573 

Miguel  Giner  .... 

586 

573 

Duarte  Diaz        .... 

.     586 

.    573 

Lorenzo  de  Zamora 

586 

574 

Christovul  de  Jlesa     . 

.     587 

.     574 

Juan  de  la  Cueva  . 

588 

576 

Alfonso  Lopez,  El  Pinciano 

.     589 

.     576 

Francisco  Mosquera 

590 

577 

Vasconcellos       .... 

.     590 

.     578 

Bernarda  Ferreira 

591 

579 

Antonio  de  Vera  y  Figueroa 

.     592 

.     580 

Borja  y  Ivsquilache 

592 

581 

Rise  of  Heroic  Poetry 

.     594 

.     581 

Its  Decline      .... 

595 

HISTORY 


OF 


SPANISH    LITERATURE. 


SECOND    PERIOD. 


THE    LITERATURE    THAT    EXISTED    IN    SPAIN    FROM    THE    ACCESSION    OF 

THE    AUSTRIAN    FAMILY   TO    ITS    EXTINCTION  ;    OR    FROM    THE 

BEGINNING    OF'  THE    SIXTEENTH    CENTURY    TO 

THE   END   OF    THE    SEVENTEENTH. 

(CONTINUED.) 


HISTORY  OF  SPANISH  LITERATURE. 

SECOND    PERIOD. 

(continued.) 


CHAPTEE    V. 

niD.A.CTIC     POETRY.  LUIS     DE     ESCOBAR.  COREL.A.S.  TORRE.  DIDACTIC 

PROSE. VILLALOBOS.  OLIVA.  .SEDENO. SALAZAE.  LUIS    MEXIA. 

PEDRO    MEXIA.  NAVARRA.  UREEA. PALACIOS     RUBIOS. VANEGAS. 

JUAN    DE    AVILA. ANTONIO    DE    GUEVARA. DIALOGO    DE     LAS     LENGUAS. 

PROGRESS    OF    THE    CASTILIAN    FROM    THE    TIME    OF    JOHN    THE    SECOND 

TO    THAT    OF    THE    EMPEROR    CHARLES    THE    FIFTH. 

While  an  Italian  spirit,  or  at  least  an  observance  of 
Italian  forms,  was  beginning  so  decidedly  to  prevail  in 
Spanish  lyric  and  pastoral  poetry,  what  was  didactic, 
whether  in  prose  or  verse,  took  directions  somewhat 
different. 

In  didactic  poetry,  among  other  forms,  the  old  one 
of  question  and  answer,  known  from  the  age  of  Juan 
de  Mena,  and  found  in  the  Cancioneros  as  late  as  Bada- 
joz,  continued  to  enjoy  much  favor.  Originall}^,  such 
questions  seem  to  have  been  riddles  and  witticisms; 
but  in  the  sixteenth  century  they  gradually  assumed  a 
graver  character,  and  at  last  claimed  to  be  directly  and 
absolutely  didactic,  constituting  a  form  in  which  two 
remarkable  books  of  light  and  easy  verse  were  pro- 
duced. The  first  of  these  books  is  called  "  The  Four 
Hundred  Answers  to  as  many  Questions  of  the  Illus- 
trious Don  Fadrique  Enriquez,  the  Admiral  of  Castile, 


4  DIDACTIC    POETllY.  [Pkuiod  II. 

and  other  Persons."  ^  It  was  printed  three 
*4  times  in  1545,  the  year  *  in  which  it  first  ap- 
peared, and  had  undoubtedly  a  great  success  in  the 
class  of  society  to  which  it  was  addressed,  and  whose 
manners  and  opinions  it  strikinglj^  illustrates.  It  con- 
tains at  least  twenty  thousand  verses,  and  was  followed, 
in  1552,  by  another  similar  volume,  chiefly  in  prose, 
and  promising  a  third,  which,  however,  was  never 
published.  Except  five  hundred  proverbs,  as  they  are 
inappropriately  called,  at  the  end  of  the  first  volume, 
and  fifty  glosses  at  the  end  of  the  second,  the  whole 
consists  of  such  ingenious  questions  as  a  distinguished 
old  nobleman  in  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Fifth  and  his 
friends  might  imagine  it  would  amuse  or  instruct  them 
to  have  solved.  They  are  on  subjects  as  various  as 
possible,  —  religion,  morals,  history,  medicine,  magic, 
—  in  short,  whatever  could  occur  to  idle  and  curious 
minds  ;  but  they  were  all  sent  to  an  acute,  good-hu- 
mored Minorite  friar,  Luis  de  Escobar,  who,  being  bed- 
ridden with  the  gout  and  other  grievous  maladies,  had 
nothing  better  to  do  than  to  answer  them. 

His  answers  form  the  bod}^  of  the  work.  Some  of 
them  are  wise  and  some  foolish,  syme  are  learned  and 
some  al)surd  ;  but  they  all  bear  the  impression  of  their 
ao-e.  Once  we  have  a  lon<»:  letter  of  advice  about 
a  godly  life,  sent  to  the  Admiral,  which,  no  doubt,  was 
well  suii('(l  to  his  case  ;  and  repeatedly  we  get  com- 
plaints from  the  old  monk  himself  of  his  sufferings, 
and  accounts  of  what  he  was  doing;  so  that  from  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  two  volumes  it  would  be  possible  to 

1  My  cojiy  is  ciititlccl,  Vol.  I.,  Las  1.545  ;  printed  in  folio  at  Zararroza,  i\'. 
Quatroci(;ntius  l{e.s]iui'sta.s  a  otras  tantiis  122,  hlk.  let.  two  and  three  lolumns. 
PrefOi'itis  '1"**  •'!  illustrissiino  (.sic)  Vol.  II.,  La  Segunda  Parte  de  las  Qua- 
Seftor  Don  Fadrifjue  Enriquez,  Alnii-  troeientas  Resjme.stas,  cc.  En  Valla- 
ran  tc  de  Ca.stilla  y  otras  diversas  perso-  dolid,  l.'j.52.  Folio,  ff.  245,  blk.  let. 
na.s  enibiaron  a  preguntar  al  autoi-,  ec.,  two  (•olunins.     More  tlmn  jialf  in  prose. 


Cii.\i>.  v.] 


DIDxVCTIC    POETKV. 


collect  a  tolerably  distinct  picture  of  the  amuscnients  of 
society,  if  not  its  occupations,  about  the  court,  at  the 
period  when  they  were  written.  The  poetr}^  is  in  many 
respects  not  unlike  that  of  Tusser,  who  was  contempo- 
rary with  Escobar, but  it  is  better  and  more  spirited.'-^ 

*  The  second  book  of  questions  and  answers  to  *  5 
which  we  have  referred  is  graver  than  the  first. 
It  was  printed  the  next  year  after  the  great  success  of 
Escobar's  work,  and  is  called  "  Three  Hundred  Questions 
concerning  Natural  Subjects,  with  their  Answers,"  by 
Alonso  Lopez  de  Corelas,  a  physician,  who  had  more 
learning,  perhaps,  than  the  monk  he  imitated,  but  is 
less  amusing,  and  writes  in  verses  neither  so  well  con- 
structed nor  so  agreeable.^ 

Others  followed,  like  Gonzalez  de  la  Torre,  who  in 
1590  dedicated    to  the    heir-apparent  of  the  Spanish 


2  Escobar  was  of  the  family  of  that 
name  at  Sahagun,  but  lived  in  the  con- 
vent of  St.  Francis  at  Bioseco,  a  posses- 
sion of  the  great  Admiral.  This  he 
tells  ns  in  the  Pi-eface  to  the  Second 
Part.  Elsewhere  he  complains  that 
many  of  the  questions  sent  to  him 
were  in  such  bad  verse  that  it  cost  him 
a  gi'eat  deal  of  labor  to  put  them  into  a 
proper  shape  ;  and  it  must  be  admitted 
that  both  questions  and  answers  gener- 
ally read  as  if  they  came  from  one  hand. 
Sometimes  a  long  moral  dissertation 
occurs,  especially  in  the  prose  of  the 
second  volume,  but  the  answers  are 
rarely  tedious  from  their  length.  Those 
in  the  first  volume  are  the  best,  and 
Nos.  280,  281,  282,  are  curious,  from 
the  accounts  they  contain  of  the  poet 
himself,  who  must  have  died  after  1552. 
In  the  Preface  to  the  first  volume,  he 
says  the  Admiral  died  in  1538.  If  the 
whole  work  had  been  comjileted,  ac- 
cording to  its  author's  purpose,  it  would 
have  contained  just  a  thousand  ques- 
tions and  answers.  For  a  specimen  we 
may  take  No.  10  (Quatrocientas  Pre- 
guntas,  Carago^a,  1545,  folio)  as  one  of 
tlie  more  ridiculous,  wliere  the  Admiral 
asks  how  many  keys  Christ  gave  to  St. 
Peter  ;  and  No.  190  as  one  of  the 
better   sort,   wliere   the   Admiral   asks 


whether  it  be  necessary  to  kneel  before 
the  priest  at  confession,  if  the  penitent 
finds  it  very  painful  ;  to  which  the  old 
monk  answers  gently  and  well,  — 

He  that,  through  suflfering  sent  from  God  above, 
Confessing,  kneels  not,  still  commits  no  sin  ; 

But  let  him  cherish  modest,  humble  love, 
And  that  shall  purify  lii.s  heart  within. 

The  fifth  part  of  the  first  volume  con- 
sists of  riddles  in  the  old  style  ;  and, 
as  Escobar  adds,  they  .are  sometimes 
truly  very  old  riddles  ;  so  old,  that  they 
must  have  been  generally  known. 

The  Admiral  to  whom  these  "Respu- 
estas"  Avere  addressed  was  the  stout  old 
nobleman  who,  during  one  of  the  ab- 
sences of  Charles  V.,  was  left  Regent 
of  Sixain,  and  who  ventured  to  give  his 
master  counsels  of  the  most  plain- 
spoken  wisdom  (Salazar,  Dignidades, 
1618,  Lib.  III.  c.  15;  Ferrer  del  Kio, 
Decadencia  de  Espana,  1850,  pp.  16, 
17). 

^  The  Volume  of  Corelas  "Trezientas 
Preguntas"  (Valladolid,  1546,  4to)  is 
accompanied  by  a  learned  prose  com- 
mentary in  a  respectable  didactic  style. 
There  seems  to  have  been  an  earlier 
edition  the  sai^je  year,  containing  only 
two  hundred  and  fifty  questions  and 
answers.  (See  Salva's  Catalogues,  1826 
and  1829,  Nos.  1236.  3304.) 


6  DIDACTIC    PROSE.  [Period  II. 

throne  a  volume  of  siicli  dull  religious  riddles  as  were 
admired  a  century  before.*  But  nobody,  who  wrote  in 
this  peculiar  didactic  sty\e  of  verse,  equalled  Escobar, 
and  it  soon  jDassed  out  of  general  notice  and  regard.^ 

In  prose,  about  the  same  time,  a  fashion  appeared  of 
imitating  the  Roman  didactic  prose-writers,  just  as  those 
writers  had  been  imitated  by  Castiglione,  Benibo, 
*  6  Giovanni  *  della  Casa,  and  others  in  Italy.  The 
impulse  seems  plainly  to  have  l)een  commmiicated 
to  Spain  by  the  moderns,  and  not  by  the  anciefits.  It 
was  because  the  Italians  led  the  Avav  that  the  Romans 
were  imitated,  and  not  because  the  example  of  Cicero 
and  Seneca  had.  of  itself,  been  al)le  to  form  a  prose 
school,  of  any  kind,  beyond  the  Pyrenees.*^  The  fash- 
ion was- not  one  of  so  much  importance  and  influence 
as  that  introduced  into  the  poetry  of  the  nation ;  but 
it  is  worthy  of  notice,  both  on  account  of  its  results 
during  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  and  on  account 
of  an  effect  more  or  less  distinct  which  it  had  on  the 
prose  style  of  the  nation  afterwards. 

The  eldest  among  the  prominent  wi'iters  produced  by 
this  state  of  things  was  Francisco  de  Villalobos,  of  whom 
we  know  little  except  that  he  belonged  to  a  family 
which,  for  several  successive  generations,  had  been 
devoted  to  the  medical  art ;  that  he  was  himself  the 
physician,  first  of  Ferdinand  the  Catholic,'  and  then  of 

*  Docu-nttus  PiY'^intas,  f'tc,  ]>or.Iiian  nan  Perez  dc  Oliva,  shows  the  way  in 
Gonzalez  de  la  Torre,  Madiid,  1590,  -which  the  change  was  brouglit  alujiit. 
4to.  Some  Sj)aniards,  it  is  plain  from  this 

^  I  should  rather  have  said,  perhaps,  curious  document,  were  become  ashamed 

that  the  Prcf^mtas  were  soon  restricted  to  wiitc  any  longer  in  Latin,  as  it'  their 

to  the  ffLshioiialile  societies  and  acade-  own  language  were  unfit  for  practical 

inics  of  the  time,  as  we  see  them  wittily  use    in    matters   of  grave    imjiortanoe, 

exhibited  in  the  first  janiada  of  Cal-  when  they  had,  in  the  Italian,  exam- 

deron's  "Secreto  a  Voces."  pies    of    entin?    success    befoie    them. 

*  The  general  tendency  and  tone  of  (Ohras  de  Oliva,  Madrid,  1787,  12mo, 
the  didactii;  jirose-wriWrs  in  the  reign  Tom.  I.  ]ip.  xvi-xlvii.) 

of  Charles  V.  prove  this  fact ;  but  the  '  There  is  a  letter  of  Villalobos,  dated 

Discourse  of  Morales,  the  historian,  at  Calatayud,  OctoV)er  6,  1515,  in  which 
jirefixed  to  the  works  of  his  uncle,  Fer-      he  says  he  was  detained  in  that  city  by 


CnAr.  v.]  FUA^X'1SC0    DE    VILLALOJJOS.  7 

Charles  the  Fifth  ;  that  he  published,  as  early  as  1498, 
a  poem  on  his  own  science,  in  five  hundred  stanzas, 
founded  on  the  rules  of  Avicenna  ;^  and  that  he  con- 
tinued to  be  known  as  an  author,  chiefiy  on  subjects 
connected  with  his  profession,  till  1543,  before  which 
time  he  had  become  weary  of  the  court,  and  sought  a 
voluntary  retirement,  in  which  he  died,  above  seventy 
years  old.^  His  translation  of  the  "  Amphitryon  "  of 
Plautus  belongs  rather  to  the  theatre,  but,  like 
that  of  Oliva,  soon  to  be  mentioned,  *  produced  no  *  T 
effect  there,  and,  like  his  scientific  treatises,  de- 
mands no  especial  notice.  The  rest  of  his  Avorks^ 
including  all  that  belong  to  the  department  of  elegant 
literature,  are  to  be  found  in  a  volume  of  moderate  size> 
which  he  dedicated  to  the  Infante  Don  Luis  of  Por- 
tugal. 

The  chief  of  them  is  called  "Problems,"  and  is  di- 
vided into  two  tractates :  the  first,  which  is  very  short, 
being  on  the  Sun,  the  Planets,  the  Four  Elements,  and 
the  Terrestrial  Paradise ;  and  the  last,  which  is  longer, 
on  Man  and  Morals,  beginning  with  an  essay  on  Satan, 
and  ending  with  one  on  Flattery  and  Flatterers,  which  is 
especially  addressed  to  the  heir-apparent  of  the  crown 
of  Spain,  afterwards  Philip  the  Second.  Each  of  these 
subdivisions,  in  each  tractate,  has  eight  lines  of  the  old 
Spanish  verse  prefixed  to  it,  as  its  Problem,  or  text,  and 
the  prose  discussion  which  follows,  like  a  gloss,  consti- 
tutes the  substance  of  the  Avork.  The  whole  is  of  a  very 
miscellaneous  character ;  most  of  it  grave,  like  the  es- 

the  king's  severe  illness.  (Obras,  (^'ara-  ticed,  to  have  been  (lis))lease(l  with  his 
go(ja,  1544,  folio,  f.  71,  h.)  This  was  ])osition  as  early  as  1515  ;  but  he  must 
the  illness  of  which  Ferdinand  died  in  liave  continued  at  court  above  twenty- 
less  than  four  months  afterward.  years  longer,  when  he  left  it  poor  and 

**  Mendez,  Typographia,  ]).  249.     An-  disheartened.     (Obras,  f.  45.)     From  a 

tonio.  Bib.  Vetus,  ed.  Bayer,  Tom.  U.  passage  two  leaves  further  on,  I  think 

J).  344,  note.  he  left  it  after  the  death  of  the  Em- 

^  He  seems,  from  the  letter  just  no-  press,  in  1539. 


8  FKAN'CESC'O    DE    VILLALOBOS.  [Pkuiod  II. 

says  on  Knio-lits  and  Prelates,  but  some  of  it  amiisinii', 
like  an  essay  on  the  Marriage  of  Old  Men.^*^  The 
best  portions  are  those  that  have  a  satirical  vein  in 
them  ;  suoli  as  the  ridicule  of  litigious  old  men,  and 
of  old  men  that  wear  paint." 

A  Dialogue  on  Intermittent  Fevers,  a  Dialogue  on 
the  Natural  Heat  of  the  Body,  and  a  Dialoofue  between 
the  Doctor  and  the  Duke,  his  patient,  are  all  quite  in 
the  manner  of  the  contemporary  didactic  discussions 
of  the  Italians,  except  that  the  last  contains  passages  of 
a  broad  and  free  humor,  approaching  more  nearly  to 
the  tone  of  comedy,  or  rather  of  farce.^^  A  treatise  that 
follows,  on  the  Three  Great  Annoyances  of  much  talk- 
ing, much  disputing,  and  much  laughing,^'^  and  a 
*  8  *  grave  discourse  on  Love,  with  which  the  volume 
ends,  are  all  that  remain  worth  notice.  They  have 
the  same  general  characteristics  with  the  rest  of  his 
miscellanies ;  the  style  of  some  portions  of  them  being 
distinguished  by  more  purity  Jind  more  pretensions  to 
dignity  than  have  been  found  in  the  earlier  didactic 
prose-writers,  and  especially  by  greater  clearness  and 
exactness  of  expression.  Occasionally,  too,  we  meet 
with  an  idiomatic  familiarity,  frankness,  and  spirit,  that 
are  xery  attractive,  and  that  partly  compensate  us  for 

'''  If   Pogf?io's   tiillc,    "All    Seni  sit  ca  de  AutoresEspanoles,  Tom.  XXXVI. 

I'xor   daci'iida,"    had    been    published  18.5.5. 
uhcn   Villalolios  wrote,    I   .should   not  ''■^  Obra.s,  f.  35. 

<l(nil>t  he  had  seen   it.     A.s  it  is,   the  i-'  I  have  translated  the  title  of  this 

«-.oincideiice  may  not  be  accidental,  lor  Treati.se     "  The   Three    Great   Annoii- 

I'ogKio  died  in  1449,   though  his  Dia-  anccs."      In    the   original    it   is    "The 

logue  was  not,    I  believe,   jjiiuted  till  Three  Great ,"  leaving   the   title, 

the  jnesciit  ci'iitury.  says  Villalobos  in  his  Prologo,    unliii- 

"  The  Pioblemas  constitute  the  first  i.shed,    .so    that   everybody   may   fill    it 

]iait  of  the  Obnis  de  Villalobos,  1544,  up  as  he  likes.     Among  the  M8S.  of 

and  fill  thirty-four  leaves.    A  few  jioems  the    Academy   of    History   at    ]\Iadrid 

Viy  Villalolios  may  be  found  in  the  Can-  is  an  amusing  "Coloquio"  by  Villalo- 

cionero  of  1554  (noticed  anlc.   Vol.   I.  bos  on  a  medical   question,  and   some 

]).  393,  11.);  but  they  are  of  much  less  of  his   ])lea.saiit   letters.       See   Spanish 

worth  than  his  pro.se,  and  th(!  best  of  translation  of  this  History,   Tom.    II. 

Jiis  works  an;  reiniiited  in  the  Bibliote-  p.  506. 


CiiAi'.  v.]  FERNAN    PEEEZ    DE    OEIVA.  9 

the  absurdities  of  the  old  and  forgotten  doctrines  in 
natural  history  and  medicine,  whicli  Villalobos  incul- 
cated because  they  were  the  received  doctrines  of  his 
time. 

The  next  writer  of  the  same  class,  and,  on  the  whole, 
one  much  more  worthy  of  consideration,  is  Fernan 
Perez  de  Oliva,  a  Cordovese,  who  was  born  about  1492, 
and  died,  still  young,  in  1530.  His  father  was  a  lover 
of  letters ;  and  the  son,  as  he  himself  informs  us,  was 
educated  with  care  from  his  earliest  youth.  At  twelve 
years  of  age,  he  was  already  a  student  in  the  Univer- 
sity of  Salamanca  ;  after  which  he  went,  first,  to  Alcala, 
when  it  was  in  the  beginning  of  its  glory;  then  to 
Paris,  Avhose  University  had  long  attracted  students 
from  every  part  of  Europe  ;  and  finally  to  Rome,  wherCy 
under  the  protection  of  an  uncle  at  the  court  of  Leo 
the  Tenth,  all  the  advantages  to  be  found  in  the  most 
cultivated  capital  of  Christendom  were  accessible  to 
him. 

On  his  uncle's  death,  it  was  proposed  to  him  to  take 
several  offices  left  vacant  by  that  event ;  but  loving 
letters  more  than  courtly  honors,  he  went  back  to  Paris, 
where  he  taught  and  lectured  in  its  University  for  three 
years.  Another  Pope,  Adrian  the  Sixth,  was  now  on 
the  throne,  and,  hearing  of  diva's  success,  endeavored 
anew  to  draw  him  to  Rome  ;  but  the  love  of  his  coun- 
try and  of  literature  continued  to  be  stronger  than  the 
love  of  ecclesiastical  preferment.  He  returned, 
therefore,  to  Salamanca ;  *  became  one  of  the  *  9 
original  members  of  the  rich  "  College  of  the  Arch- 
bishop," founded  in  1528;  and  was  successively  chosen 
Professor  of  Ethics  in  the  Universit}^,  and  its  Rector. 
But  he  had  hardly  risen  to  his  highest  distinctions^ 
when   he   died   suddenly,  and   at  a  moment  when  so 


10  FEKXAX    PEREZ    DE    OLIVA.  [Pkimod  II. 

inniiv  hopes  rested  on  liiin  that  his  death  was  felt  as  a 
misibrtune  to  the  cause  of  letters  throughout  Spain.^* 

diva's  studies  at  Rome  had  taught  hiui  how  success- 
fully tJic  Latin  writers  had  been  imitated  by  the  Ital- 
ians, and  he  became  anxious  that  they  should  be  no  less 
successfully  imitated  by  the  Spaniards.  He  felt  it  as 
a  wrong  done  to  his  native  language,  that  almost  all  se- 
rious prose  discussions  in  Spain  were  still  carried  on  in 
Latin,  rather  than  in  Spanish.^^  Taking  a  hint,  then, 
from  Castiglione's  "  Cortigiano,"  and  opposmg  the  cur- 
rent of  opinion  among  the  learned  men  with  whom  he 
lived  {uid  acted,  he  began  a  didactic  dialogue  on  the 
Dignity  of  Man,  formallj^  defending  it  as  a  work  in  the 
Spanish  language  written  by  a  Spaniard.  Besides  this, 
he  wrote  several  strictly  didactic  discourses  :  one  on  the 
Faculties  of  the  Mind  and  their  Proper  Vse ;  another 
in;uing  Cordova,  his  native  city,  to  improve  the  naviga- 
tion of  the  Guadalquivir,  and  so  obtain  a  portion  of  the 
rich  connnerce  of  the  Lidies,  which  was  then  monopo- 
lized ))y  Seville  ;  and  another,  that  was  delivered  at  Sal- 
amanca, when  he  was  a  candidate  for  the  chair  of  moral 

^*  Tlu"  most  ainplf  life  of  Oliva  is  in  In    an   anonymous  controvorsial   pam- 

Eezalial  y  Ugaiie,    "  Bil)lioteca  de  los  ])lilet  pulilishcd  at  Madrid  in  1789,  and 

Escri tores,  (|uc  han  sido  individuos  do  entitled    "Carta    de    I'aracuello.s,"    we 

los    seis   Colegios    Maj'ores"    (Madrid,  are  told  (p.  29),   "  Los  anos  pasados  el 

180."),  4to,  pp.  239,  etc.).     But  all  that  C'onsejo  de  Ca.stilla  maiuld  a  las  Univer- 

we  know  about  him,  of  any  real  inter-  sidades  del  Reyno  que,  en  las  funciones 

fst,  is  to  be  found  in  th(!  exposition  he  literarias,    solo    se    hablase    en    Latin, 

made  of  his  claims  and  meiits  when  Bien  mandado,  ec."     And  yet,  the  in- 

he   contended   ])ublicly   for   the    chair  judiciousness  of  the  practice  had  been 

of    Moral    Philosophy    at    Salamanca.  al)ly  set  forth  by  the  well-known  schol- 

(Obias,    1787,   Tom.    II.    jijt.   26 -.51.)  ar,   Pedro  Simon  de  Abril,   in   an  ad- 

In  the  course  of  it,  he  says  his  travels  dress  to   Philip   II.,  as  early  as  1589, 

all  over  Spain  .and  out  of  it,  in  pursuit  and  tlie  reasons  against  it  .stated  with 

of  knowledge,  liad  amounted  to  more  force  and  precision.     See  his  "Apunta- 

than  three  thou.sand  leagues.  mientos  de  como  .se  deveii  reformar  la- 

'^  Obras,  Tom.   I.  p.  xxiii.     l^uis  de  doctrinas  y  la  manera  de  ansefiallas." 

Leon  was  of  the  .same  mind  at  the  same  Editions   of    this   sensible    tra(!t   were 

X»enod,  but  his  opinion  was  not  jirinted  al.so  printed  Ln  1769  and   1817;  —  the 

until  later.     See  pos/.,   ("liap.   IX.   note  la.st,    with    notes    and    a    preliminary 

12.     But  Latin  continued  to  be  exclu-  discourse   by  Jose  Clemente  Caricero, 

sively  the  language;  of  the.  Spanish  Uni-  .seems  to  have  had  some  ell'ect  on  opin- 

ver.iilics  for  ai>ove  two  centuries  longer.  ion. 


Chap.  V.]    SEDEXO,  SALAZAK,  LULS  MEXIA,  CEKIOL.  11 

philosophy;  *  in  all  which  his  nephew,  Morales,    *  10 
the  historian,  assures  us  it  was  his  uncle's  strong 
desire  to  furnish  practical  examples  of  the  power  and 
resources  of  the  Spanish  language.^*' 

The  purpose  of  giving  greater  dignity  to  his  na- 
tive tongue,  by  employing  it,  instead  of  the  Latin, 
on  all  the  chief  subjects  of  human  inquir}^,  was  cer- 
tainly a  fortunate  one  in  Oliva,  and  soon  found  imita- 
tors. Juan  de  Sedeno  published,  in  153G,  two  prose 
dialogues  on  Love  and  one  on  Happiness ;  the  former 
in  a  more  graceful  tone  of  gallantry,  and  the  latter  in 
a  more  philosophical  spirit  and  with  more  terseness  of 
manner  than  belong-ed  to  the  ao:e.^'  Francisco  Cervan- 
tes  de  Salazar,  a  man  of  learning,  completed  the  dia- 
logue of  Oliva  on  the  Dignity  of  Man,  which  had  been 
left  unfinished,  and,  dedicating  it  to  Fernando  Cortes, 
published  it  in  1546,^*^  together  with  a  long  prose  fable 
by  Luis  Mexia,  on  Idleness  and  Labor,  written  in  a  pure 
and  somewhat  elevated  style,  but  too  much  indebted  to 
the  "  Vision  "  of  the  Bachiller  de  la  Torre.^^  Fadrique 
Oeriol  in   1559   printed,  at  Antwerp,  an   ethical  and 

1^  The  works  of  Oliva  have  been  pub-  ■'''  Sigaeuse  dos  Coh)quio.s  de  Amores 

lished  at  least  twice  ;  the  first  time  by  y  otro  de   BienaveiituraiKja,    etc.,   per 

his  nephew,  Ambrosio  de  Morales,  4to,  Juan   de    Sedeno,    vezino   de   Arevalo, 

Cordova,  in  1585,  and  again  at  Madrid,  1536,  sm.  4to,  no  printer  or  place,  pp. 

1787,  2  vols,  12mo.     In  the  Index  Ex-  16.     This  is  the  same  Juan  de  Sedeno 

purgatorius,    (1667,  'p.   424,)   they  are  who  translated  the    "  Celestina "   hito 

forbidden   to  be  read,    "till   they  are  verse    in    1540,    and    who    wrote    the 

corrected," — a  phrase  which  seems  to  "  Snma  de  Varones  Ilustres  "  (Areva- 

have  left   each   copy  of  them    to   the  lo,  1551,  and  Toledo,   1590,  folio)  ;  — 

discretion   of  the   spiritual  director  of  a  poor  biographical  dictionary,  contain- 

its  owner.     In  the  edition  of  1787,  a  ing   lives   of  about   two  hundred  dis- 

sheet  was  cancelled,  in  order  to  get  rid  tinguished   personages,     alphabetically 

of  a  note  of  Morales.    See  Index  of  1790.  arranged,  and  beginning^nth  Adam.  Se- 

In  the  same  volume  with  the  minor  deno  was  a  soldier,  and  served  in  Ital}'. 

works  of  Oliva,  Morales  published  fif-  ^^  The  whole    Dialogue  —  both    the 

teen  moral  discourses  of  his  own,  and  jiart  written  by  Oliva  and  that  written 

one  by  Pedro  A'alles  of  Cordova,  none  by    Francisco    Cervantes  —  was    pub- 

of   which   have   much    literary   value,  lished  at  Madrid  (1772,  4to)  in  a  new 

though  several,  like  one  on  the  Advan-  edition  by  Cerda  y  Rico,  with  his  usual 

tage  of  Teaching  with  Gentleness,  and  abundant,  but  awkward,  prefaces  and 

one  on  the  Difference  between  Genius  annotations. 

and  Wisdom,  are  marked  with  excel-  i'  It  is  republished    in   the  volume 

lent  sense.     That  of  Valles  is  on  the  mentioned   in   the  last  note  ;    but  we 

Fear  of  Death.  know  nothing  of  its  author. 


12 


NAVARRA,    PEDRO    ME  XI A. 


[I'EpaoD  II, 


political  work  entitled  "  Counsel  and  Councillors  for  a 
Prince,"  which  was  too  tolerant  to  be  successful 
*  11  *in  Spain,  but  was  honored  and  translated 
abroad.-^  Pedro  de  Navarra  published,  in  1567, 
forty  Moral  Dialogues,  partly  the  result  of  conversations 
held  in  an  Acadrmia  of  distinguished  persons,  who  met, 
from  time  to  time,  at  the  house  of  Fernando  Cortes.-^ 
Pedro  Mexia,  the  chronicler,  wrote  a  Silva,  or  Miscel- 
lany, divided,  in  later  editions,  into  six  books,  and  sub- 


-'^  El  Coiiscjo  y  Consejeros  del  Prin- 
cipe, ec.,  Aiivers,  1559.  Only  tlie  first 
part  was  published.  This  can  be  found 
in  the  Biblioteca  de  Autores  Espanoles, 
Tom.  XXXVl.  1855. 

21  Dialogos  niuy  Subtiles  y  Notables, 
etc.,  por  D.  Pedro  de  Navarra,  Obis])o 
de  Conienge,  (J'arago9a,  1567,  12ino,  118 
leaves.  The  first  five  Dialogues  are  on 
the  Character  becoming  a  lioyal  Chroni- 
cler ;  the  next  four  on  the  Differences 
between  a  Rustic  and  a  Noble  Life  ; 
and  the  remaining  thirty-one  on  Prep- 
aration for  Death  ;  —  all  written  in  a 
pure,  simple  Castilian  style,  but  with 
little  either  new  or  striking  in  the 
thoughts.  Their  author  says,  it  was  a 
rule  of  the  Acadcmia  that  the  person 
who  an-ived  last  at  each  meeting  should 
furnish  a  .subject  for  discussion,  and 
direct  another  menibej-  to  reduce  to 
writing  tlie  remarks  that  might  be 
made  on  it,  —  Cardinal  Poggio,  Juan 
d'  Estuniga,  knight-commander  of  Cas- 
tile, and  other  per.son.s  of  note,  being 
of  the  society.  Navarra  adds,  that  he 
had  written  two  hundred  dialogues,  in 
which  there  were  "few  matters  that 
had  not  been  touched  upon  in  that  e.\- 
cellent  Academy,"  and  notes  especially 
that  the  subject  of  "Preparation  for 
Death "  had  been  discussed  after  the 
decease  of  Cobos,  a  confidential  minis- 
ter of  Charles  V.,  and  that  he  himsidf 
had  acted  as  secretary  on  the  occasion. 
Traces  of  anything  contemporary  are, 
however,  rare  in  the  forty  dialogues  he 

{irinted  ;  —  the  mo.st  impoi-tant  that  I 
lave  noticed  relating  to  Charles  V.  and 
his  retirement  at  Yuste,  whicli  the  good 
Bisliop  seems  to  have  bidieved  was  a 
sincere  abandonment  of  all  woi'ldly 
thoughts  and  passions.  1  find  nothing 
to   illustrate  the   cKaracter  of  Cortes, 


except  the  fact  that  such  meetings  M'ere 
held  at  his  house.  Cervantes,  in  his 
Don  Quixote,  (Parte  II.  c.  18,)  calls 
him  —  perhaps  on  this  account,  per- 
haps for  the  sake  of  a  play  upon  words 
—  "  cortesissimo  Cortes."  Certainly  I 
know  nothing  in  the  character  or  life  of 
this  ferocious  to/i5'«/,s^»fo;- which  should 
entitle  him  to  such  commendation,  ex- 
cept the  countenance  he  gave  to  this 
jimihimia. 

The  fashion  of  writing  didactic  dia- 
logues in  prose  was  common  at  this 
jjeriod  in  Spain,  and  indeed  until  after 
1600,  as  Gayangos  has  wcdl  noted  in 
his  translation  of  this  Histor}^  (Tom. 
II.  pp.  508-510,)  citing  in  proof  of  it 
the  names  of  a  considerable  number  of 
authors,  most  of  whom  are  now  for- 
gotten, but  the  best  of  whom,  that  I 
have  not  elsewhere  noticed,  are  Diego 
de  Salazar,  1536  ;  Francisco  de  Miranda 
y  Villafano,  1582  ;  Bernardino  de  Esca- 
lante,  1583;  Franci-sco  de  Yaldes,  1586; 
Juan  de  Guzman,  1589  ;  Diego  N^inez 
de  Alva,  1589  ;  and  Sancho  de  Lodono, 
1593.  Of  these,  I  should  distingui-sh 
Nunez  de  Alva,  whose  dialogues,  in  the 
copy  I  use,  are  entitled  "Dialogos  de 
Diego  Nunez  de  Alva  de  la  Vida  del 
Soldado  en  que  se  quentan  la  conju- 
racion  y  pacificacion  de  Alamana  con 
todas  las  batallas,  recuentros  y  escara- 
mu^as  que  en  ello  acontecieron  en  los 
ahos  dc  1546,  y  7,  ec.  (En  Salamanca, 
Andrea  de  Portinaris,  Dialogo  primero, 
1552,  Dialogo  segundo,  1553."  Rut  the 
comjdete  edition  is  Cuenca,  1589.)  It 
is  written  in  a  ])ure  and  sjiirited  style, 
and  is  not  without  value  for  its  record 
of  liistorical  facts  ;  but  it  is  chiefly  in- 
teresting for  what  it  tells  us  of  a  sol- 
dier's life  in  the  time  of  Charles  V.,  —  so 
different  from  what  it  is  in  our  days. 


Chap.  V.]  URREA.  13 

divided  into  a  multitude  of  separate  essays,  historical 
and  moral ;  declaring  it  to  be  the  first  work  of  the 
kind  in  Spanish,  which,  he  says,  he  considers  quite 
as  suitable  for  such  discussions  as  the  Italian.^^ 
*  To  this,  which  may  be  regarded  as  an  imita-  *  12 
tion  of  Macrobius  or  of  Athenanis,  and  wliicli 
was  printed  in  1513,  were  added,  in  1518,  six  didactic 
dialogues,  —  curious,  but  of  little  value,  —  in  the  first 
of  which  the  advantages  and  disadvantages  of  having 
regular  physicians  are  agreeably  set  forth,  with  a  light- 
ness and  exactness  of  style  hardly  to  have  been  ex- 
pected.^'^  And  finally,  to  complete  the  short  list,  Urrea, 
a  fixvored  soldier  of  the  Emperor,  and  at  one  time  vice- 
roy of  Apulia,  —  the  same  person  who  made  the  poor 
translation  of  Ariosto  mentioned  in  Don  Quixote, — 
published,  in  1566,  a  Dialogue  on  True  Military  Honor, 
which  is  written  in  a  pleasant  and  easy  style,  and  con- 
tains, mingled  with  the  notions  of  one  who  says  he 
trained  himself  for  glory  by  reading  romances  of  chiv- 
alry, not  a  few  amusing  anecdotes  of  duels  and  mili- 
tary adventures.^* 

2^  Silva  cle  Varia  Leccion,  poi'  Pedro  don,  1613,  fol.).     It  is  a  curious  mix- 

Mexia.     The  first  edition  (Sevilla,  1543,  ture  of  similar  discussions  by  different 

fol.)  is  in  only  three  parts.     Another,  authors,  Spanish,  Italian,  and  French, 

which  I  also  possess,  is  of  Madrid,  1669,  Mexia's  part  begins  at  Book  I.  c.  8. 
and    in   six   books,    filling   about    700  ^3  -p^^g  earliest   edition  of  the  Dia- 

clo.sely  printed  (piarto  pages  ;   but  the  logues,  I  think,  is  that  of  Seville,  1548, 

fifth  and  sixth  books  were  first  added,  which    I  use   as  well  as  ofte  of  1562, 

I  think,  in  the  edition   of  1554,  tAvo  both  12mo,  lit.  got.     The  second  dia- 

years  after  his  death,  and  do  not  seem  logue,  wliichison  "Inviting  to  Feasts," 

to  be  his.     It  was  long  very  populai',  is  amusing  ;    but  the  last,  which  is  on 

and  there  are  many  editions  of  it,  be-  subjects  of  physical  science,  such  as  the 

.sides  translations  into  Italian,  German,  causes   of   thunder,    earthquakes,    and 

French,    Flemish,    and   English.      One  comets,    is   nowadays   only  curious  or 

English   version    is    by   Thomas   For-  ridiculous.     At   the   end   of  the   Dia- 

tescue,  and  appeared  in  1571.     (War-  logues,  and  sometimes   at   the  end  of 

ton's  Eng.  Poetry,  London,  1824,  8vo,  old  editions  of  the  Silva,  is  found  a  free 

Tom.   IV.  p.  312.)     Another,  which  is  translation  of  the  Exhortation  to  Virtue 

anonymous,  is  called  "The  Treasure  of  by  Isocrates,  made  from  the  Latin  of 

Ancient  and  Modern  Times,  etc.,  trans-  Agricola,  because  Mexia  did  not  uuder- 

lated  out  of  that  worthy  Spanish  Gen-  stand  Greek.     It  is  of  no  value, 
tlemau,    Pedro  Mexia,   and   Mr.    Fran-  ^*  Dialogo    de   la    Verdadera    Honra 

Cisco  San.soviiio,  tlie  Italian,"  etc.  (Lon-  Jlilitar,  por  Geronimo  Ximenez  de  Ur- 


14  OLIVA.  [Pfiuod  ir. 

Both  of  the  works  of  Pedro  Mexia,  but  especially  his 
Silva,  enjoyed  no  little  popularity  during  the  sixteenth 
and  seventeenth  centuries  ;  and,  in  point  of  style,  they 
are  certainly  not  without  merit.  None,  however,  of 
the  productions  of  any  one  of  the  authors  last  men- 
tioned had  so  much  force  and  character  as  the  first 
part  of  the  Dialogue  on  the  Dignity  of  Man.      And 

yet  Oliva  was  certainly  not  a  person  of  a 
*  13     connnandini*:    g-enius.      *IIis    ima<»:ination   never 

warms  into  poetry;  his  invention  is  never 
sufficient  to  give  new  and  strong  views  to  his  subject ; 
and  his  sj'stem  of  imitating  both  the  Latin  and  the 
Italian  masters  rather  tends  to  debilitate  than  to 
impart  vigor  to  his  tlioughts.  ])ut  there  is  a  general 
reasonal^leness  and  wisdom  in  what  he  says  that  win 
and  often  satisfy  ns ;  and  these,  with  his  stjde,  Avhich, 
though  sometimes  declamatory,  is  yet,  on  the  v^diole, 
pure  and  well  settled,  and  his  happy  idea  of  defending 
and  employing  the  Castilian,  then  coming  into  all 
its  rights  as  a  living  language,  have  had  the  effect 
of  giving  him  a  more  lasting  reputation  than  that 
of  any  other  Spanish  prose-writer  of  his  time.^^ 

rea.     There  are  editions  of  1.566,  1.'j75,  opposition  to  the  use  of  the  Castilian 

1661,  etc.     (Latassa,  Bib.  Arag.  Nueva,  in  gi'ave  subjects  was  continued.     He 

Tom.  I.  p.  264.)     Mine  is  a  small  (]uar-  says  people  talked  to  him  as  if  it  were 

to  volume,  Zaragoza,  1642.     One  of  tlie  "a  sacrilege"  to  discuss  such  matters 

most  amusing  passages  in  the  Dialogue  except  in  Latin  (f.  l.'»).     But  he  replies, 

of  Urrca  i^  tlir-  one  in  Part  First,  con-  like  a  true  Spaniard,  tliat  the  Castilian 

taining  a  <letailed  statement  of  every-  is  better  for  sudi  jiurposes  than  Latin 

thing  relating  to  the  duel  proposed  by  or  Greek,  and  that  lie  trusts  before  long 

Francis    L   to  Charles  V.      There  are  to  .see  it  as  widely  spread  as  the  arms 

verses   by   him   in    the   Cancionero   of  and  glories  of  his  country  (f.  17).     On 

1.5.'>4,  (noticed  ante.  Vol.  L  p.  393,  n.,)  the    other   hand,    in    1.543,    a    treatise 

and  in  the  Library  of  the  University  of  on  Holy  AliVitions,  —  "  Ley  de  Amor 

Zamgoza  there  are,  in  MS.,  the  second  Sancto, — written  bj'  Francisco  de  Os- 

and   third   volumes   of  a   Homancc  of  suna,  witli  gieat  purity  of  style,  and 

Chivalry  by  liim,  entitled  "  Don  Clari-  somi-times  with  fervent  elo<|uence,  was 

sel  de  las  Flores."     See  Spani.sh  ti'ans-  ]iublished  witliout  apology  for  its  Cas- 

lation   of   this    History,    Tom.    IL   p.  tilian,  and  dedicated   to  Francisco  de 

51 1 .  ( 'obos,  a  confirlential  secretary  of  Charles 

'^  As  late  as  1.592,  when  the  "Con-  ^ .,  adverted  to  in  note  21.     I   think 

version    de   la    Magdalena,"   by   Pedro  O.ssuna   was   dead   when    this   treatise 

Malon  de  Chaide,  was   published,  the  appeared. 


Chap.  V.]       PALACIOS    UUIJIOS,    VANEGAS,    AVILA.  1-5 

The  same  general  tendency  to  a  more  formal  and 
elegant  style  of  discussion  is  found  in  a  icAV  other 
ethical  and  religious  authors  of  the  reign  of  Charles 
the  Fifth  that  are  still  remembered  ;  such  as  Palacios 
iRubios,  who  wrote  an  essay  on  Military  Courage, 
for  the  benefit  of  his  son  ;  ^^  Vanegas,  who,  under 
the  title  of  "  The  Agony  of  Passing  through  Death," 
gives  us  what  may  rather  be  considered  an  ascetic 
treatise  on  holy  living ;  ^'  and  Juan  de  Avila, 
sometimes  called  the  Apostle  *  of  Andalusia,  *  14 
whose  letters  are  fervent  exhortations  to  virtue 
and  religion,  composed  with  care  and  often  with  elo- 
quence, if  not  with  entire  purity  of  style.'^ 

The  author  in  this  class,  however,  who,  during  his 
lifetime,   had    the    most    influence,    was   Antonio    de     ' 
Guevara,  one  of  the  official  chroniclers  of  Cliarles  tlie     » 
Fifth.     He  was  a  Biscayan  by  birth,  and  passed  some     \ 
of  his   earlier  years  at  the  court  of  Queen  Isabella. 

2^5  A  full  account  of  Juan  Lopez  de  a  good  style,  thougli  not  without  con- 

Vivero    Palacios    Rubios,    who    was   a  ceits  of  thought  and  conceited  phrases, 

man  of  consequence  in  his  time,  and  But  it  is  not,  as  its  title  might  seem  to 

■engaged  in  the  famous  compilation  of  imply,   a  criticism    on  books  and  au- 

the    Spanish    laws    called    "  Leyes   de  thor.s,  but  the  opinion  of  Vanegas  him- 

Toro,"  is  contained  in  Rezabal  y  Ugarte  self,  how  we   should   study  tlie   great 

(Biblioteca,  pp.  266-271).     His  works  books  of  God,  nature,  man,  and  Chris- 

in  Latin  are  numerous  ;  but  in  Spanish  tianity.     It  is,  in  fact,  intended  to  dis- 

he  published  only  ' '  Del  Esfuevzo  Belico  courage  the  reading  of  most  of  the  books 

Heroyco,"  which  appeared  first  at  Sala-  then  nnich  in  fashion,  and  deemed  by 

manca  in   1524,    folio,    but   of  which  him  bad. 

there   is   a   beautiful    Madrid    edition,  ^^  He  died  in  1569.     In  1534  he  was 

1793,    folio,   with   notes   by  Francisco  in  the  prisons  of  the  Inquisition,  and 

Moi'ales.  in  1559  one  of  his  books  was  put  into 

2^  Antonio,  Bib.  Nov.,  Tom.  I.  p.  8.  the  Index  Expurgatorius.  Neverthe- 
He  flourished  about  1531-1545.  His  less,  he  was  regarded  as  a  sort  of  Saint. 
"Agonia  del  Transito  de  la  Muerte,"  a  (Llorente,  Histoire  de  I'lnquisition, 
glossary  to  which,  by  its  author,  is  Tom.  II.  pp.  7  and  423.)  His  "Car- 
dated  1543,  was  first  printed  fi'om  his  tas  Espirituales "  were  not  piinted,  I 
corrected  manuscript  many  years  later,  believe,  till  the  year  of  his  death. 
My  copy,  which  seems  to  be  of  the  (Antonio,  Bib.  Nova,  Tom.  I.  ])p.  639- 
first  edition,  is  dated  Alcala,  1574,  and  642.)  His  treatises  on  Self-knowledge, 
is  in  12mo.  The  treatise  called  "Dife-  on  Prayer,  and  on  other  religious  sub- 
rencias  de  Libros  que  ay  en  el  Uni-  jects,  are  equallj'  well  written,  and  in 
verso,"  by  the  same  author,  who,  how-  the  same  style  of  eloi^uence.  A  long 
ever,  here  writes  his  name  Vcnegas,  life,  or  rather  eulogy,  of  him  is  pre- 
was  finished  in  1539,  and  printed  at  fixed  to  the  first  volume  of  his  works, 
Toledo  in  1540,  4to.     It  is  written  in  (Madrid,  1595,  4to,)  by  Juan  Diaz. 


16  ANTONIO    UK    (iUEVAHA.  [Pkuiod  IL 

In  1528  he  became  a  Franciscan  monk ;  but,  enjoy- 
ing the  favor  of  the  Emperor,  he  seems  to  have  been 
transformed  into  a  thorough  courtier,  accompanj^ing 
his  master  during  his  jourueys  and  residences  in  Italy 
and  other  parts  of  Europe,  and  rising  successively,  by 
the  royal  patronage,  to  be  court  preacher.  Imperial 
historiographer,  Bisliop  of  Guadix,  and  Bishop  of 
Mondonedo.     He  died  in  1545.-"^ 

His  Avorks  were  not  very  nunuMOus,  Init  they  Avere 
fitted  to  the  atmosphere  in  which  they  were  produced, 
and  enjoj^ed  at  once  a  great  popularity.  His  '•  Dial 
for  Princes,  or  Marcus  Aurelius,"  first  published  in 
1529,  and  the  fruit,  as  he  tells  us,  of  eleven  years' 
labor,^'^  was  not  only  often  reprinted  in  Spanish,  1)ut 
was  translated  into  Latin,  Italian,  French,  and  English ; 
in  each  of  which  last  two  languages  it  appeared  many 
times  before  the  end  of  tlie  centiuy.^^      It  is  a  kind 

of  romance,  founded  on  the  life  and  character 
*15    of  Marcus  Aurelius,   and   resembles,   *  in   some 

points,  the  "  Cyropaidia  "  of  Xenophon  ;  its  pur- 
pose being  to  place  before  the  Emperor  Charles  the 
Fifth  the  model  of  a  prince  more  perfect  for  wisdom 
and  virtue  than  any  other  of  antiquity.  But  the 
Bishop  of  Mondofiedo  adventured  beyond  his  preroga- 
tive. He  pretended  that  his  Marcus  Aurelius  was 
genuine  history,  and  appealed  to  a  manuscri])t  in 
Florence,  which  did  not  exist,  as  if  he  had  done  little 
more   than   make   a   translation  ol"  it.      In  conse(jnence 

29  A  life  of  fhievaia  is  prefixed  to  different   editions   and  translations  of 

the  edition    of  his  Epistolas,   Madrid,  the  works  of  Guevai'a,  showing   their 

1673,  4to  ;  hut  tln^re  is  a  f,'ood  account  great  popularity  all  over  Europe.     In 

of  liiin  hy  himself  in  the  Prologo  to  his  Frencli  the  nunilier  of  translations  in 

"  Menosjirecio  de  Corte."  the   sixteenth    century   was   extraordi- 

^'  .See  the  argument  to  his  "Decada  nary.     See   La  Croix   du   Maine  et  du 

de  los  Ccsares."  Verdier,    l'ililiothei|ues,    (Paris,    1772, 

31  Watt,  in  his  "  Bihliotheca  Hritiiii-  4to,  Tom.  111.  p.  123,)  and  the  articles 

nica,"  and  l^ninet,  in  his  "^lanuel  du  there  referred  to. 
Libraire,"  give  (piite  amjile  lists  of  the 


I'li.vr.  v.]  ANTOMO    I)K    GUEVARA.  17 

of  this,  Pedro  de  Run.,  a  professor  of  ele^-ant  literature 
in  the  college  at  Soria,  addressed  a  letter  to  hiiii,  in 
1540,  exposing  the  fraud.  Two  other  letters  followed, 
written  with  more  IVeedoni  and  purity  of  style  than 
anything  in  the  works  of  the  Bishop  himself,  and  leav- 
ing him  no  real  ground  on  which  to  stand. '^^  He, 
however,  defended  himself  as  well  as  he  was  able ;  at 
first  cautiously,  but  afterwards,  when  he  was  more 
closely  assailed,  by  assuming  the  wholly  untenable 
position  that  all  ancient  profane  history  was  no  more 
true  than  his  romance  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  and  that  he 
had  as  good  a  right  to  invent  for  his  own  high  pur- 
]DOses  as  Herodotus  or  Livy.  From  this  time  he  was 
severely  attacked ;  more  so,  perhaps,  than  he  would 
have  been  if  the  gross  frauds  of  Annius  of  Viterbo 
had  not  then  been  recent.  But,  however  this  may  be, 
it  was  done  with  a  bitterness  that  forms  a  strong  con- 
trast to  the  applause  bestowed  in  France,  near  the 
end  of  the  eighteenth  century,  upon  a  somewhat 
similar  work  on  the  same  subject  by  Thomas.*^ 

^^  There  are  editions  of  the  Cartas  questions,  the  satirical  chi'onicler  says 

del  Bachiller  Rua,    Burgos,   15-49,  4to,  that    he    inquired:     "  Querria    saber, 

and  Madrid,   1736,   4to,   and  a  lite  of  Senora  Voz,  si  tengo  de  ser  niejorado 

him  in  Bayle,   Diet.   Historique,  Am-  en  algun  obispado,  e  que  fuese  presto 

sterdam,  1740,  folio,  Tom.   iV.  p.  95 c  si  han  de  crcer  todo  lo  que  yo 

The  letters  of  Rua,  or  Rhua,  as  his  escrihoV  But,  setting  the  jests  of  Fran- 
name  is  often  written,  are  respect-  cesillo  aside,  Guevara  was,  no  doubt, 
able  in  style,  though  their  critical  as  Ferrer  del  Rio  says  of  him,  "hombre 
spirit  is  that  of  the  age  and  country  de  escasissima  conciencia."  In  his 
in  which  they  were  written.  Tlie  short  youth  he  seems  to  have  been  a  rake, 
reply  of  Guevara  following  the  second  (Decadencia  de  Espafaa,  1850,  pp.  139, 
of  Rua's  letters  is  not  creditable  to  sqq.)  How  shamelessly  intolerant  and 
him.  cruel  he  afterwards   became,   we  have 

There   are   several   amusing   hits   at  ah'eady   seen,    ante.    Period   I.,    Chap. 

Guevara  in  the  chronicle  of  Fraucesillo  XXIV.  note  8. 

de  Zuhiga,  the  witty  fool  of  Charles  V.  ^^•Antonio,  in  his  article  on  Guevara, 

Ex.   gr.   in  Chap.    LXXXIV.    he  says  (Bib.  Nova,  Tom.   I.  p.   125,)  is  very 

that   there  was  a  gi'eat   stir  at   couit  severe  ;  but  his  tone  is  gentle  compared 

about  the  wonders  of  a  deep  cave  near  with  that  of  Bayle,  (Diet.  Hist.,  Tom. 

Burgos,  in  which  a  hidden  miraculous  II.    p.    631,)  who   always   delights   to 

voice  would  give  answers  to  questions  .show   up   any  defects   he   can  tind  in 

put   to   it.     Many   persons  visited   it.  the  characters  of  priests  and  monks. 

Among  the  rest  Guevara  went  with  a  There   are   editions    of   the    Relo.x    de 

party,  and  when  his  turn  came  to  })ut  Prineipes    of    1529,    1532,    1537,    etc. 
VOL.    II.                          2 


18 


ANTONIO    DE    GUEVAKA. 


[Pkkiui.  II. 


After  all,  liowevm^,  the  "Dial  for  Princes"  is 
*  IG  little  *  worth}'  of  the  excitement  it  occasioned. 
It  is  filled  with  letters  and  speeches,  ill-con- 
ceived and  inappropriate,  and  is  written  in  a  formal 
and  inflated  style.  Perhaps  we  are  now  indebted  to  it 
for  nothing  so  mnch  as  for  the  beautifid  fable  of  "  The 
Peasant  of  the  Dannbe,"  evidently  sn^-irested  to  La 
Fontaine  l)y  one  of  the  discourses  through  which 
Guevara  endeavored  to  give  life  and  reality  to  his 
fictions.** 

In  the  same  spirit,  though  Avith  less  boldness,  he 
wrote  his  "  Lives  of  the  Ten  Roman  Emperors " ;  a 
v.ork  Avliich,  like  his  Dial  for  Princes,  he  dedicated  to 
Charles  the  Fifth.  In  general,  he  has  here  followed 
the  authorities  on  which  he  claims  to  foimd  his  narra- 
tive, such  as  Dion  Cassius  and  the  minor  Latin  histo- 
rians, showing,  at  the  same  time,  a  marked  desire  to 
imitate  Plutarch  and  Suetonius,  whom  he  announces 
as  his  models.  But  he  has  not  been  able  entirely 
to  resist  the  temptation  of  inserting  fictitious  letters, 
and  even  unfounded  stories;  thus  giving  a  false  view, 


Thos.  North,  the  well-known  English 
translator,  translated  the  "Relox"  in 
three  books,  adding,  inappropriately, 
as  a  "fowerth,"  the  "  Despertador  (k; 
Cortesanos,"  and  dedicating  the  whole, 
in  \iv.)l,  to  Qneen  Mary,  then  wife  of 
Philip  II.  It  was  the  work  of  his 
yontli,  he  saj's,  wlien  he  was  a  stndent 
of  Lincoln's  Inn  ;  bnt  it  contains  much 
good  ohl  English  idiom.  Jly  copy  is 
in  folio,    l.'^OS. 

^  La  Fontaine,  Fables,  Lib.  XL  f\xb. 
7,  and  Guevara,  Kelo.\,  Lil).  III.  c.  3. 
The  s)»eech  which  tlie  Spanish  liisliop, 
the  true  inventor  of  this  hapjiy  iiction, 
gives  to  his  Rnstico  de  Germania  is, 
indeed,  too  long  ;  but  it  was  po))ular. 
Tirso  de  Midiiia,  after  di-scribing  a  jieas- 
ant  who  appioached  Xer.ves,  says  in  the 
Prologue  to  one  of  his  plays, 

In  short, 
lit-  re|irewnU'(J  to  the  very  life 


The  Rustic  that  so  boldly  spoke 

Uefore  the  liomaii  Senate. 
C'igarrales  de  Toledo,  Madrid,  1624,  4to,  p.  102. 
La  Fontaine,  howevei',  did  not  trouble 
himself  about  the  original  Spanish  or 
its  popularit}'.  He  took  his  lieautiful 
version  of  the  fable  from  an  old  French 
translation,  made  by  a  gentleman  who 
went  to  Madrid  in  1526  with  the  Car- 
dinal de  Granimont,  on  the  suliject  of 
Francis  the  Firsl's  imprisonment.  It 
is  in  the  rich  oV\  Fn-ncli  of  that  ]icriod, 
and  La  Fontaine  often  ado])ts,  with  his 
accustomed  .skill,  its  ]iictures(jue  phra- 
seology. I  su])])o.se  this  translation  is 
the  one  cited  by  Hrunet  as  made  by 
Pene  Bertaut,  of  whifh  there  were  many 
editions,  ^linc  is  of  Paris,  ]."j4(i,  folio, 
by  Galliot  du  Pre,  and  is  entitletl  "  Lor- 
loge  des  Princes,  traduiet  Uesjtaignol 
en  Langaige  Frant;ois,"  but  does  not 
trive  the  translator's  name. 


Chai'.  v.]  ANTONIO    DE    GUEVARA.  10 

if  not  of  the  facts  of  liistory,  at  least  of  some  of  the 
characters  he  records.  Ilis  style,  however,  though  it 
still  wants  purity  and  appropriateness,  is  better  and 
more  simple  than  it  is  in  his  romance  on  Marcus 
Aurelius.''^^ 

*  Similar  characteristics  mark  a  large  collec-  *17 
tion  of  Letters  printed  by  him  as  early  as  1539. 
Many  of  them  are  addressed  to  persons  of  great  con- 
sideration in  his  time,  such  as  the  Marquis  of  Pescara, 
the  Duke  of  Alva,  Inigo  de  Velasco,  Grand  Constable 
of  Castile,  and  Fadrique  Enriquez,  Grand  Admiral. 
But  some  were  evidently  never  sent  to  the  persons  ad- 
dressed, like  the  loyal  one  to  Juan  de  Padilla,  the  head 
of  the  Conmneros,  and  two  impertinent  letters  to  the 
Governor  Luis  Bravo,  who  had  foolishly  fallen  in  love 
in  his  old  age.  Others  are  mere  fictions,  among  which 
are  a  correspondence  of  the  Emperor  Trajan  with  Plu- 
tarch and  the  Roman  Senate,  which  Guevara  vainly 
protests  he  translated  from  the  Greek,  without  saying 
where  he  found  the  originals;^''  and  a  long  epistle  about 
Lais  and  other  courtesans  of  antiquity,  in  which  he 
gives  the  details  of  their  conversations  as  if  he  had 
listened  to  them  himself     Most  of  the  letters,  thouoli 

^^  The  "  Decadade  los  Cesares,"  with  The  translation  of  the  "  Decada,"  by 

the    other    treatises    of  Guevara   here  Edward  Hellowes,  published  1577,  anil 

spoken  of,  except  his  Epistles,  are  to  dedicated   to  Queen  Elizabeth,   is  not 

be  found  in  a  collection  of  his  works  so  good  as  North's  translation  of  the 

first  printed  at  Valladolid  in  1539,  of  "Relox,"   but  it  is  worth  having.     I 

which  I  have  a  copy,  as  well  as  one  of  have    Italian    versions    of    several    of 

the  edition  of  1545.     Guevara  seems  to  Guevara's  works,  but  they  seem  of  no 

have  been  as  particular  about  the  typo-  value. 

graphical    execution  of   his   works    as  *»  These  very  letters,  however,  were 

he  was  about  his  style  of  composition.  thought  worth  translating  into  English 

Besides  the  above,  I  have  his  Epistolas  by  Sir  Geoffrey  Fenton,  and  are  found 

1539,  1542,  1543  ;  his  Oratorio  de  Ee-  ff.  68-77  of  a  curious  collection  taken 

ligiosos,    1543,    1545,    and    his    Monte  from  different  authors  and  published  in 

Calvario,  1543,  1549,  — all  grave  black-  London,  (1575,  4to,  black-letter,)  under 

letter  folios,  printed  in  different  cities  the  title  of  "  Golden   Epistles."     YA- 

and  by  different  ])rinters,  but  all  with  ward  Hellowes  had   already   ti'an  slated 

an  air  of  exactness  and  finish  that   is  the  whole  of  Gucivara's  Epistles  in  1574  ; 

quite  remai-kable,  and,  I  suspect,  (juite  wbicrh  were  again   translated,   l)ut   not 

characteristic  of  tlie  autlior.  very  well,  by  Savage,  in  1G57. 


20  ANTONIO    DE    GUEVARA.  [Pkiii.-d  IT. 

tliey  are  called  •'  Familiar  Epistles,"  are  merely  essays 
or  disputations,  and  a  few  are  sermons  in  form,  with 
an  announcement  of  the  occasions  on  which  they  were 
preached.  None  has  the  easy  or  natural  air  of  a  real 
correspondence.  In  fiict,  they  were  all,  no  doubt,  pre- 
pared expressly  for  publication  and  for  effect;  and, 
notwithstanding  their  stiffness  and  formality,  were 
greatly  admired.  They  were  often  printed  in  Spain; 
they  were  translated  into  all  the  principal  languages  of 
Europe ;  and.  to  express  the  value  set  on  them,  they 
were  generally  called  "The  Golden  Epistles."  But, 
notwitlistanding  their  early  success,  they  have  long  been 
disregarded,  and  only  a  few  passages  that  touch  the 
affairs  of  the  time  or  the  life  of  the  Emperor  can  now 

•  be  read  with  interest  or  pleasure.^' 
*  18  *  Besides  these  Avorks,  Guevara  Avrote  several 
formal  treatises.  Two  are  strictly  theological.^^ 
Another  is  on  the  Inventors  of  the  Art  of  Navigation 
and  its  Practice  ;  —  a  subject  which  might  be  thought 
foreign  from  the  Bishop's  experience,  but  with  which, 
he  tells  us,  he  had  become  familiar  by  having  been 
much  at  sea,  and  visited  many  ports  on  the  Mediter- 
ranean.'"^^    Of  his   two   other    treatises,  which    are   all 

^  Epistolas  Familiares  de  D.  Antonio  210.)     It  is  an  unpioniising  sultjcct  in 

(le  Guevaia,   Madrid,  1673,  4to,  p.  12,  any  language,  but  in  the  original  Gue- 

and  elsewhere.     Cervantes,  en  passant,  vara  ha.s  shown  some  pleasantry,  and 

give.s  a  blow  at  the  letter  of  Guevara  an  easier  style  than  is  common  with 

about  Lais,  in  the  Prologo  to  the  first  him.      Much  interest  for  the  .sciences 

part  of  his  Don  Quixote.  connected  with  navigation  was  awakened 

•**  One  of  these  religious  treatises  is  at  Seville  by  the  intercouise  of  that  city 
entitled  "  Monte  f  "alvario,"  1542,  trans-  with  America  in  the  time  of  Charles  V., 
lated  into  English  in  1595  ;  and  the  when  Guevara  lived  there.  It  is  be- 
other,  "Oiatorio  de  Religiosos,"  1543,  lieved  that  the  tii-st  really  useful  niari- 
which  is  a  series  of  short  exhortations  time  charts  were  made  there.  (Have- 
or  homilies,  with  a  text  prefixed  to  mann,  p.  173.)  The  "Arte  de  Nave- 
each.  The  first  is  ordered  to  be  ex-  gar"  of  Pedro  de  Medina,  jirintcd  at 
purgated  in  the  Index  of  1(367,  (p.  Seville  in  1545  and  early  translated  into 
67,)  and  both  are  censured  in  that  of  Italian,  French,  and  German,  is  said  to 
1790.  have  been  the  first  liook  published  on 

^  Hellowes  translated  this,  also,  and  the  subject.      See  Literatura  ICspafiola 

printe<l  it  in  1578.     (Sir  F^.   Brydges en  el  Prefacio  de  N.  Antonio, 

Censura  Literaria,  Tom.   III.   1807,  p.  ec,  1787,  p.  56,  note. 


Chap.   V.]  THE    DIALOGO    DE    LAS    LEXCJUAS.  21 

that  remain  to  be  noticed,  one  is  called  "  Contempt  of 
Court  Life  and  Praise  of  the  Country  "  ;  and  the  other, 
"  Counsels  for  Favorites  and  Teachings  for  Courtiers." 
They  are  moral  discussions,  suggested  by  Castiglione's 
"Courtier,"  then  at  the  height  of  its  popularity,  and 
are  written  with  great  elaborateness,  in  a  solenni  and 
stiff  style,  bearing  the  same  relations  to  truth  and  wis- 
dom that  Arcadian  pastorals  do  to  nature. *° 

All  the  works  of  Guevara  show  the  impress  of  their 
age,  and  mark  their  author's  position  at  court.  They 
are  burdened  with  learning,  yet  not  without  proofs  of 
experience  in  the  ways  of  the  world ;  —  they  often 
show  good  sense,  but  they  are  monotonous  from  the 
stately  dignity  he  thinks  it  necessarj^  to  assume  on  his 
own  account,  and  from  the  rhetorical  ornament  by 
which  he  hopes  to  commend  them  to  the  regard  of  his 
readers.  Such  as  they  are,  however,  they  illustrate  and 
exemplify  more  truly,  perhaps,  than  anything  else  of 
their  age,  the  style  of  writing  most  in  favor  at  the  court 
of  Charles  the  Fifth,  especially  during  the  latter  part  of 
that  monarch's  reign. 

But  by  far  the  best  didactic  prose  work  of  this  pe- 
riod, though  unknown  and  unpublished  till  two 
centuries  afterwards,  *  is  that  commonly  cited  *  19 
under  the  simple  title  of  "  The  Dialogue  on 
Languages  "  ;  —  a  work  which,  at  any  time,  would  be 
deemed  remarkable  for  the  naturalness  and  purity  of  its 
style,  and  is  peculiarly  so  at  this  period  of  formal  and 
elaborate  eloquence.  "  I  write,"  says  its  author,  "  as  I 
speak ;  only  I  take  more  pains  to  think  what  I  have  to 
say,  and  then  I  say  it  as  simply  as  I  can ;  for,  to  my 
mind,  affectation  is  out  of  place  in  all  languages."    Who 

*"^  Both  these  treatises  were  translated      tiqnities,    ed.    Dil)diii,    Loudon,    181 U, 
into  English  ;   the  lirst  by  Sir  Francis      4to,  Tom.  III.  p.  460. 
Briant,  in  1548.     Atnes's  Typog.  An- 


22  THE    PIALO(;0    DE    las    LENGUAS.        [Pf.iuod  ii. 

it  Avas  that  entertained  an  opinion  so  true,  but  in  his 
time  so  uneoninion,  is  not  certain.  Probably  it  was 
Juan  (le  A'aldes,  a  person  who  has  sometimes  been  said, 
but  not,  I  think,  justly,  to  have  embraced  the  opin- 
ions of  the  Kelbrmation.  He  was  educated  at  the  Uni- 
versity of  Alcala,  and  during  a  part  of  his  life  jdos- 
sessed  not  a  little  political  consequence,  being  much 
about  the  person  of  the  Emperor.  It  is  not  known 
what  became  of  him  afterwards ;  but  he  probably  died 
in  1540,  six  years  before  Charles  the  Fifth  attempted 
to  establish  the  Inquisition  in  Naples,  where  Valdes 
lived  long,  and,  therefore,  it  is  not  likely  that  he 
was  seriously  molested  while  he  was  there,  although 
his  opinions  were  certainh'  not  always  such  as  the 
Spani.>ili    Church    exacted.^^ 

The  Dialogue  on  Languages  is  supposed  to  be  car- 
ried on  between  two  Spaniards  and  two  Itahans,  at 
a  country-house  on  the  sea-shore,  near  Naples,  and  i.s 
an  acute  discussion  on  the  origin  and  character  of  the 
Castilian.  Parts  of  it  are  learned,  but  in  these  the  au- 
thor sometimes  falls  into  errors  ;*^  other  parts  are  lively 
and  entertaining: ;  and  vet  others  are  full  of  o-ood  sense 
and  sound  criticism.  The  principal  personage  —  the 
one  wlio  gives  all  the  instructions  and  explanations  — 
is  named  Valdes  ;  and,  from  this  circumstance, 
*  20  as  well  as  from  some  intimations  in  the  *  Dia- 
logue itself,  it  may  be  inferred  that  Juan  de 
Valdes  was   its  author,  and   that  it  was  written  before 

*i  Llorcnte    (Hist,    ile   I'lnquisition,  supposed  to  have  been  an  anti-Triiiita- 

Toin.  II.  pp.  281  and  478)  makes  some  lian,  but  McCrie  does  not  admit  it. 
mistakes   about  Valdes,   of  whom   ac-  *-  His  chief  enor  is  in  supposin*:;  that 

eounts   are    to    be   found    in    McCrie's  the  Greek  hiuf^uaye  once  prevaih-d  gen- 

"  Hist,  of  the  Progi-ess,  etc.,  of  the  Kef-  erally  in   Spain,    and   constituted    the 

oniiation  in   Italy,"  (Kdinlmrgh,  1827,  basis  of  an  ancient  Spani^il  laiifjuage, 

8vo,    ]t\>.    Kni    aiid    121,)    and    in    liis  wiiicli,   he  thinks,  Wii.s  spnad  tiinnij^h 

"Hist,   of  the   Progiess,    etc.,    of  the  the  country  before  the  Honiaus aijjjeared 

l{<'formation    in    Spain  "    (Edinl)urgli,  in  Spain. 
1829,   8vo,   pj).    140-140).     Vakles    is 


Chap.  V.] 


JUAN    DE    VALDES. 


23 


1536  ;'*^  —  a  point  which,  ii'  ei-;tablishe(l,  would  account 
for  the  suppression  of  the  manuscript,  as  the  work  of 
one  inclined  to  heresy.  In  any  event,  the  Dialogue 
was  not  printed  till  1737,  and  therefore,  as  a  speci- 
men of  pure  and  easy  style,  was  lost  on  the  age  that 
produced  it.** 


*3  The  intimations  alliidpd  to  are  that 
the  Valdes  of  the  Dialogue  had  been  at 
Rome  ;  that  he  was  a  jutsoii  of  some 
autliority  ;  and  that  he  liad  lived  long 
at  Naples,  and  in  otliei-  jiaits  of  Italy. 
He  sjieaks  of  Garcilasso  de  la  Vega  as 
if  he  were  alive,  and  Garcilasso  died  in 
1536.  Llorente,  in  a  passage  just  cited, 
calls  Valdes  the  author  of  the  "Dia- 
logo  de  las  Lenguas";  and  Clemencin 
—  a  safer  authority  —  does  the  same, 
once,  in  the  notes  to  his  edition  of  Don 
Quixote,  (Tom.  IV.  ]).  285,)  though  in 
other  notes  lie  treats  it  as  if  its  author 
were  unknown. 

"  The  "Dialogo  de  las  Lenguas" 
was  not  printed  till  it  appeared  in 
Mayans  y  Siscar,  "  Origenes  de  la  Len- 
gua  EsjDauola,"  (Madrid,  1737,  2  tom. 
12mo, )  where  it  iills  the  first  half  of  the 
second  volume,  and  is  the  best  thing  in 
the  collection.  Probably  the  maim- 
script  had  been  kept  out  of  sight,  as 
the  work  of  a  heretic.  Mayans  says 
that  it  could  be  traced  to  Zurita,  the 
historian,  and  that,  in  1736,  it  was 
purchased  for  the  Royal  Library,  of 
which  ilayans  himself  was  then  libra- 
rian. Gayangos  .says  it  is  now  in  the 
British  Museum,  but  this  is  a  mistake. 
It  is  a  modern  copy  that  is  there,  num- 
bered "9939,  4to,  Additional  MSS." 
One  leaf  was  wanting,  —  probably  an 
ex])urgation,  — which  Mayans  could  not 
sujjply  ;  and,  though  he  seems  to  have 
believed  Valdes  to  have  been  the  author 
of  the  Dialogue,  he  avoids  saying  so,  — 
l)erhaps  from  an  unwillingness  to  at- 
tract the  notice  of  tlie  Inquisition  to  it. 
(Origenes,  Tom.  I.  pp.  173-180.)  Iri- 
arte,  in  the  ' '  Aprobacion  "  of  the  col- 
lection, treats  the  "Dialogo"  as  if  its 
author  were  (piite  unknown. 

Since  the  preceding  ])art  of  this  note, 
and  wliat  relates  to  the  same  subject  in 
the  text,  were  published,  in  1840,  more 
lias  become  known  about  it,  and  I  will, 
therefore,  give  the  result  as  it  stands 
in  1864. 


There  were  two  brotlicrs  Valdes,  — 
Juan  and  Alfonso, — twins,  and  so  le- 
markably  alike  in  character  as  well  as 
in  e.xternal  appearance  that  Erasiims, 
speaking  of  them  in  a  letter  dated 
March  1,  1528,  says  they  did  not  .sx'eni 
to  be  twins,  but  to  be  absolutely  one 
person,  —  "non  duo  gemelli,  sed  idem 
prorsus  lioino."  They  weie  both  secre- 
taries to  Charles  V.  ;  both  went  with 
him  to  Germany  and  Italy  ;  and  they 
both  wei-e  men  of  talent  and  ]iowei-, 
who  wrote  and  taught  in  a  liberal  and 
wise  spirit,  rare  always,  and  e.spei:ially 
in  a  period  like  the  troubled  one  in 
which  they  lived.  From  such  a  re- 
markable series  of  resemblances,  and 
from  the  fact  that  opinions  such  as  they 
entertained  could  not,  in  tlieii'  own 
times,  be  very  frankly  and  fully  set 
forth,  the  two  twin  bi'others  have  not 
infre(p.iently  been  confounded  as  to  the 
events  of  their  lives  aifil  as  to  the  au- 
thorship of  their  respective  works. 

That  Juan  wrote  the  remarkable  Dia- 
logue on  the  Language  there  can  be  no 
just  doubt.  Since  the  account  given 
of  it  in  the  text  was  published  in  1849, 
a  much  better  edition  of  the  work  has 
been  published  with  the  imprint  of 
Madrid,  1860,  pre])ared  from  the  man- 
uscript preserved  in  the  National  Li- 
brary there,  which  is  the  one  used  by 
Mayans  in  1737,  and  the  only  old  one 
known  to  exist.  It  settles  this  question 
of  the  authorship,  and  renders  it  ])ro!i- 
able  that  the  work  itself  was  oiiginally 
entitled,  as  it  ought  to  be,  "Dialogo  de 
la  Lengua,"  in  the  singular  number, 
and  not  "Dialogo  de  las  Lenguas,"  in 
the  plural,  — relating,  as  it  really  does, 
to  the  Spanish  language  alone,  although 
reference  is  necessarily  made  in  its  dis- 
cussions to  other  languages.  But,  be- 
sides the  well-considered  examination 
of  these  points  in  the  jneface  of  this 
edition,  it  contains  above  a  thousand 
different  readings,  important  and  unim- 
portant,  all  noteii  in  the  margin,   ami 


24 


JFAX    DE    YALDES. 


[PEiUOD    II. 


*21        *For   us   it   is    important,   because   it   shows, 
with  more  distinctness  than  any  other   literary 
monmnent  of  its  time,  what  was  the  state  of  the  Span- 
ish language  in  the  reign  of  the  Emperor  Charles  the 


showing,  as  does  everytliiiig  in  ivlation 
to  the  preparation  of  the  woik,  gieat 
care  and  patience. 

Juan  de  Vahies  wrote  other  works 
that  are  chiefly  or  wholly,  like  his  ex- 
positions of  .St.  Paul,  religious  and  the- 
ological. Of  these,  the  most  important, 
1  .suppo.se,  an;  his  "Alfaheto  (.'liris- 
tiano  "  and  his  "  t'iento  y  Diez  Conside- 
raciones,"  both  intended  for  Chri.stian 
■edifii.'ation,  and  the  last  very  comj)re- 
liensive  in  its  chai-acter.  But  uuhap- 
pily  we  possess  neither  of  them  as 
their  author  wrote  them  in  his  pure 
C!a.stilian  ;  for  having  been  prepared 
<'.specially  for  the  benefit  of  Italian 
friends,  the  fii-st  was  published  in  Ital- 
ian, without  date  of  place,  in  l.')46,  and 
the  last  at  Basle  in  1550,  from  which 
they  have  pa.ssed  successively  into  the 
other  modern  languages,  and,  among 
the  rest,  into  the  Spanish.  His  "  Con- 
sideraciones, "  in  the  English  version  of 
2>Ji<holas  Ferrar,  was  published  at  Ox- 
ford in  1638,  and  at  Cambridge  in  1646, 
Avith  notes  by  Hevl)ert,  the  pious  poet 
<S  the  Tenij)!^.  See  Izaak  Walton's 
Lire  of  Herbert,  1819,  j).  266,  noting, 
nowever,  that  good  Izaak  is  mi.stakeii 
in  wliat  lie  says  about  Valdes. 

Of  the  works  of  Alfon.so  Valdes,  two 
are  especially  worth  notice,  which,  un- 
til lately,  were  supposed  to  have  been 
■wiitten  by  his  aif^'?-  cr/o,  Juan,  and 
Avhicli,  even  in  the  new  edition  of  the 
"Dialogo  de  la  Lengua,"  are  claimed, 
on  internal  eviden(;e,  to  be  partly  from 
his  hand. 

They  commonly  a])])ear  under  the 
simple  title  of  "  Dos  Dialogos,"  as  they 
•were  originally  published  s.  d.  about 
1530.  The  first  of  them  is  a  dialogue 
Vxitween  Mi-rcury,  Charon,  and  sundry 
souls  newly  arrived  on  the  lianks  of  the 
Styx,  and  mu.st  have  been  written  as 
late  as  1528,  since  it  contains  a  letter 
from  Charles  V.  <late(l  in  that  year. 
The  other  is  a  dialogue  between  a 
young  man  named  Lactaneio,  who  may 
represent  the  autlior,  and  an  ecclesiastic 
in  a  military  d^(^ss  fresh  from  liome, 
where,  amidst  th(;  coiifiirsion  and  vio- 
lence of  its  rece.nt  captuic,  monks  and 


))riests  served  and  dressed  as  soldiers. 
These  two  persons,  both  Spaniai-ds, 
meet  accidentally  in  a  public  square 
of  Valladtdid,  and,  retiring  for  quietness 
into  a  neighboring  church,  carry  on  a 
free  and  full  discussion  of  the  troubles 
of  their  time,  the  report  of  which  con- 
stitutes the  substance  of  the  "Dialogo." 
It  was  probably  wiitten  in  1528,  and 
was  certainly  known  in  1529,  becau.se 
in  that  year  Alfonso  Valdes  is  rebuked 
as  its  author  for  his  heretical  opinion.s 
by  Castiglione,  the  Pope's  Xuncio  in 
Spain,  who  tells  him  that  if  he  were  to 
visit  Germany  he  would  be  heartily 
welcomed  bj'-  Luther. 

Both  of  the.se  curious  and  interesting 
discus.sions  were  intended  to  defend  the 
Emperor  in  whatever  lelates  to  the  cap- 
ture of  Pome  and  the  challenge  of  Fran- 
cis 1.,  — recent  events  whicli  were  then 
in  the  mouths  of  all  men.  In  each  we 
have  not  a  few  im])oitant  i'acts  touching 
what  had  occurred  within  their  author's 
knowledge,  and  still  more  frequently 
glimp.ses  of  the  state  of  opinion  ami 
feeling  at  a  period  of  the  greatest  ex- 
citement and  anxiety.  In  each,  too, 
there  is  a  large  admixture  of  the  spirit 
of  religiovis  controversy  ;  but  though 
the  vices  of  the  priesthood  and  the  low 
condition  of  Christianity  in  the  world 
are  li-eely  exposed  in  many  pa.ssages,  I 
do  not  think  that  Valdes  (ran  be  ac- 
counted a  Protestant,  as  he  has  often 
been  ;  for  although  the  tone  of  his 
mind  and  character  is  eminently  spir- 
itual, and  although  his  opinions  are 
full  of  temperance  and  wisdou),  still 
his  admiration  for  the  Emjieror  is  un- 
bounded and  his  submission  to  the  Pope 
and  the  Church  complete.  The  charm 
of  both  the  Dialogues,  thei'efore,  con- 
sists in  their  pure  and  sjiirited  style, 
their  point  and  humor,  and  their  exlu- 
bition,  by  quaint  details  and  remark- 
able facts,  of  the  verj'  form  and  pre.ssuiv 
of  the  extraorilinary  times  to  which 
they  relate.  They  weie  prepared  and 
l)ul)lished  anew  in  1850,  without  dati' 
of  ]ilace,  b-.it  1  sujipo.se  in  Madrid,  b\ 
the  same  peison  who  in  1860  piej'ared 
and  edited  the  "Dialogo  de  la  Lengua." 


CiiAi'.  v.]  THE    SPANISH    ].AN(;UAGE.  25 

FiClli;  a  circumstance  of  consequence  to  the  connition 
of  the  literature,  and  one  to  which  we  therefore  turn 
Avith  interest. 

As  might  be  expected,  we  find,  when  we  look  l)ack, 
that  the  language  of  letters  in  Spain  has  made  material 
progress  since  we  last  noticed  it  in  the  reign  of  John 
the  Second.  The  example  of  Juan  de  Mena  had  been 
followed,  and  the  national  vocabulary  had  been  en- 
riched during  the  interval  of  a  century,  by  successive 
poets,  from  the  languages  of  classical  antiquity.  From 
other  sources,  too,  and  through  other  channels,  im- 
portant contributions  had  flowed  in.  From  America 
and  its  commerce  had  come  the  names  of  those  produc- 
tions which  half  a  century  of  intercourse  liad  brought 
to  Spain,  and  rendered  familiar  there,  —  terms  few^ 
indeed,  in  number,  but  of  daily  use.*^  From  Germany 
and  the  Low  Countries  still  more  had  been  introduced 
by  the  accession  of  Charles  the  Fifth,^'  who,  to  the 
great  annoyance  of  his  Spanish  subjects,  arrived  in 
Spain  surrounded  by  foreign  courtiers,  and  speaking 
with  a  stranger  accent  the  language  of  the  country  he 
was  called  to  govern.*"  A  few  words,  too,  had  come  acci- 

For  what    relates    to    the    hi'others  of  him,  was  written  l)y  Fiiend  AViffen 

Vakle.s,  see  the  editions  of  the  "  C'iento  and  ])nblished  in  Lomhju  in  1865;  but 

y  Diez  Consideraciones,"  1855  and  1863,  I   liad   not   the  benefit  of  it  wlien  the 

the   edition   of  the    "  Alfabeto   Chris-  preceding   remarks   were   jm^parei],    as 

tiano,"  1861,  that  of  the  "Dialogode  that  was  a  year  earlier.     Indee<l,  tliougli 

hi  Lengua,"  1860,  and  that  of  the  "Dos  the  Life  by  Witfen  contains  much  that 

Dialogos,"  1850,  —  all,  I  snjjpose,  print-  is   important   about   the    ])olitical  and 

ed  in  Madrid,  though  not  all  so  desig-  religious  character  of  Valdes,   I  found 

nated    by   their    editors,    Don    Luis   de  nothing  in   it  to  add  to  my  notice  of 

Usoz  y  Rio  and  Benjamin  B.   Wiffen,  him  as  a  man  of  letters, 
a  Quaiver  gentleman  living  near  Bed-  *^  Mayans  y  Siscar,  On'genes,  Tom. 

ford,  and  brother  of  the   translator  of  L  v-  97. 
Garcilasso  de  la  Vega.     See,   also,  the  *''  Ibid.,  ]).  98. 

interesting    discussion   relating  to  the  *''  Sandoval  says  that  C'haides  V.  suf- 

brothers  Valdes  in  M.  Young's   "Life  fered  gi-eatly  in  the  opinion  of  tlie  Span- 

and  Times  of  AonioPaleario,"  London,  iards,  on  his  first  arrival  in  Spain,  be- 

1860,    8vo,    Vol.    I.    ])p.    201-238  and  cause,   owing  to  his  inability  to  .speak 

547-551.  Spanish,  they  had  hardly  any  proper 

A  Life  of  Juan  de  Valdes,  containing  intercourse  with  him.      It  was,  he  add.s, 

everything  that  can  probably  be  known  as  if  they  could  not  tiilk  with  him  at 


2r. 


THE    SPAXISII    LAX(;rA(ip: 


[PK11I..1)    II. 


dentall}'  from  France ;  and  now,  in  the  reign  of  Pliiiip 
the  Second,  a  great  number,  amounting  to  the  most 
considerable  infusion  the  hmguage  had  received  since 
the  time  of  the  Arabs,  were  brought  in  througli  the 
intimate  connection  of  Spain  with  Italy  and  the  in- 
creasing influence  of  Italian  letters  and  Italian  cul- 
ture.*^ 
*  22  *  We  may  therefore  consider  that  the  Spanish 
lanoruaii'e  at  this  period  was  not  onh-  Ibruied, 
but  that  it  had  reached  substantially  its  full  pro- 
portions, and  had  received  all  its  essential  charac- 
teristics. Indeed,  it  had  already  for  half  a  century 
been  regularly  cared  for  and  cultivated.  Alonso  de 
Palencia,  who  had  long  been  in  the  service  of  his  coun- 
try as  an  ambassador,  and  was  afterwards  its  chroni- 
cler, published  a  Latin  and  Spanish  Dictionary  in  1490  ; 
the  oldest  in  which  Castilian  definitions  and  etymolo- 
o-ies  are  to  Ijc  found.*^  This  was  succeeded,  two  ^ears 
later,  by  the  first  Castilian  Grammar,  the  work  of  An- 


all.    Historia,  Anvors,  1681,  folio,  Tom. 

I.  ]).  141.  When  he  uiulcitook  to  hear 
cau.ses  in  clianceiy  he  lound  himself 
.still  more  uncomfortably  .situated.  (Ar- 
gensola,  Anales  de  Aragon,  Zaragoza, 
1630,  folio,  Tom.  I.  p.  441.)  The  Cor- 
tes, perhaps,  remembered  this  when 
Pliilip  II.  ('ame  to  the  throne,  and  they 
niiidc  it  their  very  first  petition  to  him 
to  liv(;  always  in  Siiain.  Cajiitulos  y 
Leyes,  Cortes  de  Valladolid,  Valladolid, 
15.-)8,  f.  1. 

*"  Mayans  y  Siscar,  Ori'genes,  Tom. 

II.  ]>]i.  "127-133.  The  author  of  the 
Dialogo  urges  tht:  introduction  of  a  con- 
-siderable  number  of  words  from  the 
Italian,  such  as  discvrsn,  facilitnr,  ftm- 
tiisio,  voir  hi,  etc.,  which  have  long 
,sini;i'  been  ailopted  and  fully  recognized 
liy  the  .\i'ademy.  Diego  de  Mendoza, 
though  iiartly  of  the  Italian  school,  ob- 
jected to  th<*  word  ccidinfla  as  a  need- 
less Italianism  ;  but  it  was  .soon  fully 
received  into  the  language.  (Guerra 
de  Granada,  ed.   177f),   Lib.  III.  c.   7, 


p.  176.)  A  little  later,  Luis  Velez  de 
Guevara,  in  Tranco  X.  of  his  "Diablo 
Cojuelo,"  denied  citizeu.ship  to  fuhfor, 
jnirpureur,  2)ompa,  and  other  words  now 
in  good  use.  So,  too,  Figueroa  (in  his 
Pasagero,  1617,  f.  8.5.  b)  complains  of 
the  additions  to  the  Spanish  of  his 
time  :  "Se  han  ido  poco  a  poco  con- 
virtiendo  en  propios  muchos  meramente 
Latinos,  como  rcjndsa,  idonen,  Iitstro, 
prole,  postcriddd,  astro,  y  otros  sin  nu- 
mero."  But  all  he  enumerates  are  now 
recognized  Castilian.  (Jayangos  cites 
Francisco  Nunez  de  Velasco,  in  his 
"Dialogos  de  Contencion  entre  la  mili- 
cia  y  la  cieneia,"  as  eoni))laiuing  that 
Italian  woids  and  jihrases  were  intro- 
dtieed  needlessly  into  the  Castilian. 
But  Nunez  reckons  Estala  (stable)  and 
Estival  ^hoot)  among  them,  not  know- 
ing they  are  Teutonic.  (Spani.sh  Trans- 
lation, 11.  513.) 

*«  Mendez,  Typographia,  \k  17.').  An- 
tonio, Bib.  Vetus,  ed.  Bayer,  Tom.  II. 
p.  333. 


CiiAi-.   v.]  TIIK    SPANISH    LANGUAGE.  27 

tonio  do  Lebrixa,  who  had  Ijcfore  puljUshed  a  l^atiu 
Grainiuar  in  the  Latin  hmgiiage,  and  transhited  it  for 
the  benefit,  as  he  tells  us,  of  the  ladies  of  the  court.'^'^ 
Other  similar  and  equally  successful  attempts  followed. 
A  purely  Spanish  Dictionar}^  by  Lebrixa,  the  first  of  its 
kind,  appeared  in  1492,  and  a  Dictionary  for  ecclesias- 
tical purposes,  in  both  Latin  and  Spanish,  by  Santa 
Ella,  succeeded  it  in  1499  ;  both  often  reprinted  after- 
wards, and  long  regarded  as  standard  authorities.'^^ 
All  these  works,  so  important  for  the  consolidation  of 
the  language,  and  so  well  constructed  that  successors 
to  them  were  not  found  till  above  a  century  later,''^ 
were,  it  should  be  observed,  produced  under  the  direct 
and  personal  patronage  of  Queen  Isabella,  who,  in  this, 
as  in  so  many  other  ways,  gave  proof  at  once 
of  her  far-sightedness  in  affairs  of  *  state,  and  *  23 
of  her  wise  tastes  and  preferences  in  whatever 
regarded  the  intellectual  cultivation  of  her  subjects.^^ 

The  language  thus  formed  was  now  fast  spreading 
throughout  the  kingdom,  and  displacing  dialects  some 
of  which,  as  old  as  itself,  had  seemed,  at  one  period, 
destined  to  surpass  it  in  cultivation  and  general  preva- 
lence. The  ancient  Galician,  in  which  Alfonso  the 
Wise  was  educated,  and  in  which  he  sometimes  wrote, 
was  now  known  as  a  polite  language  only  in  Portugal, 
where  it  had  risen  to  be  so  independent  of  the  stock 
from  which  it  sprang  as  almost  to  disavow  its  origin. 
The  Valencian  and  Catalonian,  those  kindred  dialects 
of  the  ProveiK^al  race,  whose  influences  in  the  thir- 

^^  Meudez,    Typog.,    pp.    239-242.  ^"■^  The  Grammar  of  Juan   de  Navi- 

For  the  great  merits  of  Antonio  de  Le-  dad,  1567,  is  not  an  exception  to  this 

brixa,  in  relation  to  the  Spanish  Ian-  remark,    because   it   was    intended    to 

guage,  see  "Specimen  Bibliothecaj  His-  teach  Spanish  to  Italians,  and  not  to  na- 

pano-MayansianiB  ex  Museo  D.  Clemen-  tives. 

tis,"  Hannoverte,  1753,  4to,  pp.  4-39.  ^^  Clemencin,   in  Mem.    de   la   Aca- 

61  Mendez,  ^ip.  243  and  212,  and  An-  demia  de  Historia,  Tom.   VI.   p.   472, 

tonio,  Bib.  Nova,  Tom.  11.  p.  266.  notes. 


28  THE    CAfeTILlAN.  [Pi:ku)D  II, 

teenth  century  were  felt  through  the  whole  Peninsula^ 
claimed,  at  this  period,  something  of  their  earlier  dig- 
nity only  below  the  last  range  of  hills  on  the  coast  of 
the  Mediterranean.  The  Biscayan  alone,  unchanged 
as  tlie  mountains  which  sheltered  it,  still  preserved  for 
itself  the  same  separate  character  it  had  at  the  earliest 
dawnings  of  tradition,  —  a  character  which  has  con- 
tinued essentially  the  same  down  to  our  own  times. 

But,  though  the  Castilian,  advancing  with  the  whole 
authority  of  the  government,  which  at  this  time  spoke 
to  the  f)eople  of  all  Spain  in  no  other  language,  was 
heard  and  acknowledged  throughout  the  country  as 
the  language  of  the  state  and  of  all  political  power, 
still  the  popular  and  local  habits  of  four  centuries 
could  not  be  at  once  or  entirely  broken  up.  The  Gali- 
cian,  the  Valencian,  and  the  Catalonian  continued  to 
be  spoken  in  the  age  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  and  are 
spoken  now  by  the  masses  of  the  people  in  their  re- 
spective provinces,  and  to  some  extent  in  tlie  refined 
society  of  each.  Even  Andalusia  and  Aragon  have  not 
yet  emancipated  themselves  completely  from  their 
original  idioms ;  and,  in  the  same  way,  each  of  the 
other  grand  divisions  of  the  country,  several  of  which 
were  at  one  time  independent  kingdoms,  are  still,  like 
Estremadura  and  La  Mancha,  distinguished  by  ])ecu- 

liarities  of  ^phraseology  and  accent.^^ 
*  24        *  Castile,  alone,   and    especially   Old    Castile, 

claims,  as  of  inlierited  right,  from  the  l)egin- 
ning  of  the  fifteenth  century,  the  prerogative  of  speak- 
ing absolutely  pure  Spanish.  Villalobos,  it  is  true,  who 
was  always  a  flatterer  of  ro3'al  authority,  insisted  that 

^  It  is  curious  to  observe  that  tlie  Sarniicnto,  (Mcuiorias,  ]).  04,)  who  wrote 

aiitlior  of  tlic,  "Di;ih)g0(le  las  Lciiguas,"  ahout  1760,  all  sjjcak   of   the    charac- 

(On'geiies,  Tom.   II.   p.  31,)  who  wrote  tcr   of    the    Castiliau   and    the   ytreva- 

about  153.5,  —  Mayans,  (Origiiies,  Tom.  lence  of  the  dialcets  in  nearly  the  same 

I.    p.    8,)    who  wrote   in   1737,  —  and  terms. 


Chap,  v.]  THE    CA.STIHAN    OF    TOLEDO.  29 

this  prerogative  followed  the  residences  of  the  sov- 
ereign and  the  court ;  '^  but  the  better  opinion  has 
been  that  the  purest  form  of  the  Castilian  must  be 
sought  at  Toledo,  —  the  Imi^erial  Toledo,  as  it  was 
called,  —  peculiarly  favored  when  it  was  the  political 
capital  of  the  ancient  monarchy  in  the  time  of  the 
Goths,  and  consecrated  anew  as  the  ecclesiastical  head 
of  all  Christian  Spain,  the  moment  it  was  rescued  from 
the  hands  of  the  Moors.^*^  It  has  even  been  said  that 
the  supremacy  of  this  venerable  city  in  the  purity  of 
its  dialect  was  so  fully  settled,  from  the  first  appear- 
ance of  the  language,  as  the  language  of  the  state  in 
the  thirteenth  century,  that  Alfonso  the  Wise,  in  a 
Cortes  held  there,  directed  the  meaning  of  any  dis- 
puted word  to  be  settled  by  its  use  at  Toledo.^'^  But, 
however  this  may  be,  there  is  no  question  that,  from 
the  time  of  Charles  the  Fifth  to  the  present  day,  the 
Toledan  has  been  considered,  on  the  whole,  the 
normal  form  of  the  national  *  language,  and  *  25 
that,  from  the  same   period,  the   Castilian  dia- 


**  De  las  Fiebres  Interpoladas,  Metro  (Francisco   de  Pisa,   Descripcion  de  la 

I.,  Obras,  1543,  f.  27.  Imperial  C'iudad  de  Toledo,  ed.  Thomas 

^  See  Maiiana's  account  of  the  glo-  Tamaio  de  Vargas,  Toledo,   1617,  fol., 

ries  of  Toledo,  Historia,  Lib.  XVI.  c.  Lib.  L  c.  36,  f.  56.)     The  Cortes  here 

15,    and   elsewhere.      He  was   himself  referred  to  is  said  by  Pisa  to  have  been 

from  the  kingdom  of  Toledo,  and  often  held  in  1253  ;  in  which  year  the  Chron- 

boasts  of   its  renown.      Cervantes,   in  icle   of   Alfonso  X.    (Valladolid,   1554, 

Don  Qui.xote,  (Parte  II.  c.  19,)  implies  fol.,  c.  2)  represents  the  king  to  have 

that   the   Toledan   was   accounted   the  been   there.      (See,    also,    Paton,    Elo- 

purest  Spanish  of  his  time.      It  still  quencia  Espanola,  1604,  f.  12.) 

claims  to  be  so  in  ours.  A  similar  legal  as  well  as  traditional 

^^  "  Also,   at   the  same  Cortes,   the  claim  for  the  supremacy  of  the  Toledan 

same  King,  Don  Alfonso  X.,  ordered,  dialect  is  set  up  in  the   "Historia  de 

if  thereafter  there  should  be  a  doubt  Tobias,"  a  poem  b3'Cau(li\'illaSantaren, 

in  any  part  of  his  kingdom  about  the  1615,    Canto  XL,  where,   speaking  of 

meaning  of  any  Castilian  word,  that  ref-  Toledo,  he  says  :  — 

erence   thereof  should   be   had   to   this  Entre  otros  muchos  bienes  y  favores 

city  as  to  the  standard  of  the  Castilian  Q"'''  soberano  Dios  hizo  a"est;i  gente 

tongue,     [como    i     metro    de    la   lenglia  De  hablar  su  Castellano  castamente. 

Lastellana,J      and      that      they      should  \  mnApnr  justahy  rie  EmiHnolorcs, 

adopt  the  meaning  and  definition  here  Seordeui,  qut',  si  aia:un<),i'standoausente, 

given  to  sucli  word,  because  our  tongue  ^"'^'i'-'  ••"•''l^'^''  vocablo  porfiasso, 

V                      f     .    1          ji            ,       i""o"''  Quel  que  so  usaun  Toledo  guarcla.sso. 

IS  more   jwrlect  here  than  elsewhere.  f.  1.90,  a. 


30 


THE    CASTILIAN    OF    TOLEDO. 


[Period  H. 


lect,  having  vindicated  for  itself  an  absolute  suprem- 
acy over  all  the  other  dialects  of  the  monarchy,  has 
been  the  only  one  recognized  as  the  language  of  the 
classical  poetry  and  prose  of  the  whole  country .^^ 


^  From  the  time  of  Cliarles  V.,  too, 
ami  as  a  natural  result  of  his  conquests 
and  inlluenee  throughout  Europe,  the 
Spanish  language  hecanie  known  and 
adniiied  alnoad,  as  it  had  never  been 
before.  Marguerite  de  Valois,  sister  of 
Francis  1.,  who  went,  in  1525,  to  Ma- 
drid and  consoled  her  brother  in  his 
captivity  there,  says  :  Le  Langage  Cas- 
tillan  est  sans  comparaison  mieux  de- 
clarant cette  passion  d'amour  que  n'est 
le  Francois  (Heptameron,  Journee  III., 
Nouvelie  24,  ed.  Paris,  1615,  p.  263). 
And  Donienichi,  in  Ulloa's  translation 
of  his  Piazonamiento  de  Empresas  Mill- 
tares,  (Leon,  de  Francia,  1561,  4to,  p. 
175,)  says  of  the  Spanish,  "Eslengua 


mil 3"  comun  a  todas  naciones,"  —  a 
striking  fact  for  an  Italian  to  mention. 
Richelieu  liked  to  write  in  Spanish 
(Haveniann,  p.  312).  The  marriage 
of  Pliilip  II.  with  Mary  Tudor  carried 
the  Spanish  to  the  English  Court,  where 
for  a  time  it  had  some  vogue,  and  Charles 
himself,  as  Emperor,  spread  it  through 
Germany,  as  he  did,  in  other  ways  and 
from  other  similar  inilueuce.s,  through 
Flanders  and  Ital)'.  Other  cnriou.s  facts 
of  the  same  sort,  showing  the  spread 
of  Spanish  in  Italy  and  France  about 
the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  centmy, 
may  be  found  in  the  Prologo  to  Paton's 
Eloc^uencia  Espanola,  1604,  pp.  7, 
sqq. 


*CHAPTEE    VI.  *26 

CHRONICLING    PERIOD    GONE    BY.  —  CHARLES    THE    FIFTH.  —  GUEVARA.  —  OCAM- 

PO. SEPULVEDA.  MEXIA.  ACCOUNTS    OF    THE    NEW    WORLD. CORTES. 

GOMARA.  —  BERNAL    DIAZ. OVIEDO.  LAS    CASAS. VACA. XEREZ. 

CARATE. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century,  it  is 
i^bvious  that  the  age  for  chronicles  had  gone  by  in 
Spain. ^  Still  it  was  thought  for  the  dignity  of  the 
monarchy  that  the  stately  forms  of  the  elder  time 
should,  in  this  as  in  other  particulars,  be  kept  up  by 
public  authority.  Charles  the  Fifth,  therefore,  as  if 
his  ambitious  projects  as  a  conqueror  were  to  find  their 
counterpart  in  his  arrangements  for  recording  their 
success,  had  several  authorized  chroniclers,  all  men  of 
consideration  and  learning.  But  the  shadow  on  the 
dial  would  not  go  back  at  the  royal  command.  The 
greatest  monarch  of  his  time  could  appoint  chron- 
iclers, but  he  could  not  give  them  the  spirit  of  an 
age  that  was  past.  The  chronicles  he  demanded 
at  their  hands  were  either  never  undertaken  or  never 
finished.  Antonio  de  Guevara,  one  of  the  persons  to 
whom  these  duties  were  assigned,  seems  to  have  been 
singularly  conscientious  in  the  devotion  of  his  time  to 
them  ;  for  we  are  told  that,  by  his  will,  he  ordered  the 

^  One  proof  that  the  age  of  chroiii-  lioteca  de  Autores  Espanoles,  1855.     It 

cling  was  gone  by  may  be  found  in  the  was  no  fool  that  wrote  it,  nor  the  few 

burlesque  chronicle  of  a  court-fool,  in  letters  that  follow,  though  he  bore  that 

the  early  part  of  the  reign  of  Charles  title  at  court,   and  enjoyed  its  privi- 

V.,    entitled    "Cronica  de  Don  Fran-  leges.     The  style  is  easy  and  the  lan- 

•cesillo  de  Zuhiga,  criado  privado  bien-  guage  pure,  but  there  is  less  finish  than 

'£uisto  y  predicador  del  Emperador  Car-  wit  in  it,  and  more  sense  than  histoi'i- 

los  v.    dirigida   a  su   Majestad  por   el  cal  facts.      It  is  what  its  title  implies, 

mismo    Don    Frances."       It    was    first  a    caricature    of  the    chronicling    style 

published  in  Vol.  XXX VI.  of  the  Bib-  then  going  out  of  fashion. 


32  FLOIUAN    DE    OCAMrO.  |1'kilimi>  II. 

salary  of  one  year,  during  wliicli  he  had  written  noth- 
ing of  In's   task,  to  be   returned  to  the   Imperial  trea.s- 

ury.  This,  however,  did  not  imply  that  he  was 
*  27    a  successful  *  chronicler.^     What  he  wrote  was 

not  thought  worthy  of  being  published  by 
his  contemporaries,  and  would  probably  be  judged  no 
more  favorabl}-  by  the  present  generation,  mdess  it 
discovered  a  greater  regard  for  historical  truth,  and  a 
simpler  style,  than  are  found  in  his  discussions  on  the 
life  and  character  of  the  Emjjeror  Marcus  Aurelius/^ 

Florian  de  Ocampo,  another  of  the  more  distin- 
guished of  the  chroniclers,  showed  a  wide  ambition  in 
the  plan  he  proposed  to  himself;  beginning  his  chroni- 
cles of  Charles  the  Fifth  as  for  back  as  the  days 
of  Noah's  flood.  As  might  have  been  foreseen,  he 
lived  only  so  long  as  to  finish  a  small  fragment  of  his 
vast  undertaking;  —  hardly  a  quarter  part  of  the  first 
of  its  four  grand  divisions."^  But  he  Avent  for  enough 
to  show  how  completely  the  age  for  such  writing  was 
passed  away.^  Not  that  he  failed  in  credulity ;  for  of 
that  he  had  more  than  enough.  It  Avas  not,  however, 
the  poetical  credulity  of  his  predecessors,  trusting  to 
the  old  national  traditions,  but  an  easy  faith,  that 
believed  in  the  Mearisome  foro-eries  called  the  works 
of  Berosus  and  Manetho,*'  which  had  been  discredited 
from  their  first  appearance  half  a  centurj^  before,  and 

-  Antonio,  Bib.  Nov.,  Tom.  1.  p.  127,  ])uljlishe(l  at  Zanuna,  ir)44,  in  a  licau- 

and  Preface  to  Epistolas  Familiares  of  tiful  black-lettei  folio,  and  was  In! lowed 

Guevara,  ed.  1G73.  by  an  edition  ol'  the  whole  at   Medina 

^  See   the  vituperative   article   Giic-  del  Cainpo,   looS,  folio.      The  liest,   I 

vara,  in  Bayle.  suppose,   is  tlie  one  ])ublished   at  Ma- 

*  The  best  life  of  Oeanipo  is  to  be  diid,  17!*!,  in  2  vols.  4to. 
found  in  the  "  Biblioteca  de  los  Escri-  *'  For  this  miserable  forgery  see  Nice- 
tores  ((ue  fian  sido  Individuuos  de  los  ron  (llommes  Illustres,  Paris,  1730, 
Seis  Colegios  Mayores,"  etc.,  ])or  Don  Tom.  XI.  pp.  1-11;  Tom.  XX.  1732, 
.T(jsef  de  Kezabal  y  Ugarte  (pji.  233-  ]tp.  1-6);  and  for  the  simplicity  of 
238)  ;  but  there  is  one  ])refixed  to  the  Ocampo  in  tru.sting  to  it,  see  the  last 
edit.iou  of  his  Criinica,  1791.  chapter  of  his  first  book,  and  all  the 

^  Tlie  first  edition  of  the  first  four  passages  where  he  cites  Juan  de  ViterbO' 

books  of  the  Chronicle  of  Ocampo  was  y  su  Beroso,  etc. 


€iiAP.   XL]  SEPUJA'EDA,    MEXIA.  OO 

yet  were  now  used  l)y  Oeampo  as  if  they  were  the 
probable,  if  not  the  sufticient  records  of  an  nninter- 
rnpted  succession  of  Spanisli  kings  from  Tubal,  a 
grandson  of  Noah.  Such  a  credulity  has  no  charm 
about  it.  But,  besides  this,  the  work  of  Oeampo,  in  its 
very  structure,  is  dry  and  absurd ;  and,  being  written 
in  a  formal  and  heavy  style,  it  is  all  but  impossible 
to  read  it.  He  died  in  1555,  the  year  the  Emperor 
abdicated,  leaving  us  little  occasion  to  regret 
that  *he  had  brought  his  annals  of  Spain  no  *  28 
lower  down  than  the  age  of  the  Scipios.' 

Juan  Ginez  de  Sepulveda  was  also  charged  hy  the 
Emperor  fitly  to  record  the  events  of  his  reign  ;^  and 
so  was  Pero  Mexia ;  ^  but  the  history  of  the  former, 
which  was  first  published  by  the  Academy  in  1780,  is 
in  Latin,  while  that  of  Mexia,  written,  apparently, 
after  1545,  and  coming  down  to  the  coronation  at 
Bologna,  has  been  published  only  in  part.^*^     A  larger 

"  The  Cortes  of  Valladolid,  1555,  in  He  was  not  appointed  Historiographer 
their  "Peticiones"  cxxviii  and  exxix,  till  1548.  See  notices  of  him  by  Pa- 
ask  a  pension  for  Oeampo,  and  say  that  checo,  in  the  Senianario  Pintoresco, 
he  was  then  fifty-five  years  old,  and  1844,  p.  406.  He  died  in  1552.  The 
had  been  chronicler  from  1539.  (See  History  of  the  Emperor,  which  breaks 
"Capitulos  y  Leyes,"  Valladolid,  folio,  oft'  with  Book  V.,  is  among  the  MSS. 
1558,  f.  Ixi.)  in  the  National  Library  at  Madrid,  and 

^  Pero  Mexia,  in  the  concluding  words  the  second  Book  of  it,  relating  to  the 

of  his  "Historia  Imperial  y  Cesarea."  war  of  the  Comimidades  in  Castile,  may 

Sepulveda,  who  lived  twenty-two  years  be  found  in  the  Bib.  de  Autores  Es- 

in  Italy,  and  was  almost  as  much  of  an  paiioles  (Tom.  XXL,  1852).     The  whole 

Italian  as  a  Spaniard,  died  in  1573,  iet.  is  much  praised  by  Ferrer  del  Rio  for 

83,   at  a  country  house  in  the  Sierra  its  skilful  arrangement  and  i)ure  and 

Morena,  which  he  describes  very  pleas-  dignified  style,  and  ought  to  be  pub- 

antly  in  one  of  his  unpublished  letters.  lished  ;  but  the  portion  given  to  us  is 

(See  Alcedo,  Biblioteca  Americana,  ad  outrageously  loyal. 

verb.     Gines   de   Sepiilveda,    MS.)     It  From  the  time  of  Charles  V.  there 

may  not  be  amiss  to  add  that  Sepul-  seem  generally  to  have  been  chroniclers 

veda's  Latin  style  is  very  agreeable.  of  the  kingdom  and  occasionally  chron- 

^    Capmar.y,    Eloquencia    Es[)anola,  iclers   of   the   personal   history   of   its 

Tom.  11.  p.   295.  kings.     At  any  rate,  that  monarch  had 

^™  I   say   "apparently,"   because,   in  Oeampo  and  Garibay  for  the  first  pur- 

his  "Historia  Imperial  y  Cesarea,"  he  pose,    and    Guevara,    Sepulveda,    and 

declares,  speaking  of  the  achievements  Mexia    for    the    .second.       Lorencjo    de 

of  Charles  V.,    "I  never  was  .so  pre-  Padilla,  Archdeacon  of  Malaga,  is  also 

sumptuous  as  to  deem  myself  sufticient  mentioned  by  Dormer  (Progresos,  Lib. 

to  record  them."     This  was  in  1545.  II.  c.  2)  as  one  of  his  chroniclers.     In- 


34  FERNANDO    CORTES.  [Vi:nu,i,  IL 

history,  however,  by  the  last  author,  consisting  of  the 
hves  of  all  the  Roman  Emperors  from  Julius  Ciesar  to 
]\hiximilian  of  xVustria,  the  jDreclecessor  of  Charles  the 
Fifth,  which  was  printed  several  times,  and  is  spoken 
of  as  an  introduction  to  his  Chronicle,  shows,  notwith- 
standing its  many  imperfections  of  style,  that  his  pur- 
j^ose  was  to  write  a  true  and  well-digested  history, 
since  he  generally  refers,  under  each  reign,  to  the 
authorities  on  which  he  relies.^^ 

Such  works  as  these  prove  to  us  that  Ave  have 
reached  the  final  limit  of  the  old  chronicling  style,  and 
that  we  must  now  look  for  the  apj^earance 
*  29  of  the  difterent  forms  of  *  regular  historical 
composition  in  Spanish  literature.  But,  before 
we  approach  them,  we  must  pause  a  moment  on  a  few 
histories  and  accounts  of  the  New  World,  Avhich,  dur- 
ino-  the  reio;n  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  were  of  more  im- 
portance  than  the  im})cifcct  chronicles  we  have  ju.st 
noticed  of  the  Sj)anish  empire  in  Europe.  For  as  soon 
as  the  adventurers  that  followed  Columbus  were  landed 
on  the  western  shores  of  the  Atlantic,  we  begin  to 
find  narratives,  more  or  less  ample,  of  their  discoveries 
and  settlements :  some  written  Avitli  spirit,  and  even 
in  good  taste  ;  others  quite  unattractive  in  their  style  ; 
but  nearly  all  interesting  from  their  subject  and  their 
materials,  if  from  nothing  else. 

In  the  foreground  of  this  picturesque  group  stands, 
as  the  most  brilliant  of  its  figures,  Fernando  Cortes, 
called,  by  way  of  eminence,  £Ji  Couqnhtador,  the  Con- 
queror. He  was  born  of  noble  parentage,  and  carefully 
bled ;    and   though   his    fiery    spirit    drove    him    from 

ilwd,  it  (Iocs  not  seem  e^sy  to  deter-  '^  Tlie  first  editiuii  apjyeaied  in  1545. 

inine  how  many  enjoyed  the  honor  of  Tlie  one  I  use  is  of  Anveis,  1561,  fol. 

that    tith'.      Porrefto'says    Pliilip    II.  The  best  notice  of  liis  life,  jierhaps,  is 

was  too  modest  to  have  a  eiironidcr.  tlie  article  about  liiiu  jn  the  Bio<(raphie 

Diehos,  etc.,  l<)(i(),  y.  130.  ITuivcrs.-llc. 


Chap.  VI.  ] 


FERNANDO    CORTES. 


35 


Salamanca  before  his  education  could  be  completed, 
and  brought  him  to  the  New  World,  in  1504,  when  he 
was  hardly  nineteen  years  old,^'-^  still  the  nurture  of  his 
youth,  so  much  better  than  that  of  most  of  the  other 
American  adventurers,  is  ap])arent  in  his  voluminous 
documents  and  letters,  both  published  and  unpul)lished. 
Of  these,  the  most  remarkable  were,  no  doubt,  four  or 
five  long  and  detailed  Eeports  to  the  Emperor  on  the 
affairs  of  Mexico ;  the  first  of  which  was  dated,  it  is 
said,  in  1519,  and  the  last  in  1526.^3  The  four 
known  to  be  his  are  well  written,  and  *  have  a  *  30 
business-like  air  about  them,  as  well  as  a  clear- 
ness and  good  taste,  which  remind  us  sometimes  of  the 
"Relazioni"  of  Machiavelli,  and  sometimes  of  Ccesar's 
Commentaries.  His  letters,  on  the  other  hand,  are 
occasionally  more  ornamented.  In  an  unpublished 
one,  written  about  1533,  and  in  which,  when  his  for- 
tunes were  waning,  he  sets  forth  his  services  and  his 


*'^  He  left  Salamanca  two  or  three 
years  before  he  came  to  the  New  World  ; 
but  old  Denial  Diaz,  who  knew  him 
well,  says  :  ' '  He  was  a  scholar,  and  I 
have  heard  it  said  he  was  a  Bachelor  of 
Laws  ;  and  when  he  talked  with  law- 
yers and  scholars,  he  answered  in  Latin. 
He  was  somewhat  of  a  poet,  and  made 
coplas  in  metre  and  in  prose,  [en  metro 
y  en  prosa,]"  etc.  (Concpiista,  1632, 
c.  203.)  It  would  be  amusing  to  see 
poems  by  Cortes,  and  especially  what 
the  rude  old  chronicler  calls  coplas  e>i 
prosa ;  but  he  knew  about  as  much 
concerning  such  matters  as  Mons.  Jour- 
dain.  Cortes,  however,  was  always 
fond  of  the  society  of  cultivated  men. 
In  his  house  at  Madrid,  (see  ante,  ]>.  11, 
n.  21,)  after  his  return  from  America, 
was  held  one  of  those  Academias  which 
were  then  beginning  to  be  imitated  from 
Italy. 

^^  The  printer!  "Relaciones"  maybe 
found  in  Barcia,  "  Historiadores  Prinii- 
tivos  de  las  Indias  Occiden tales,"  (Ma- 
drid, 1749,  3  toiii.,  folio,)— a  collec- 
tion i)nl)li.slu'd  after  its  editor's  death, 


and  very  ill  arranged.  Barcia  was  a 
man  of  literary  distinction,  much  em- 
jjloyed  in  affairs  of  state,  and  one  of  the 
founders  of  the  Spanish  Academy.  He 
died  in  1743.  ( Baena,  Hijos  de  Ma- 
drid, Tom.  L  p.  106.)  For  tlie  last 
and  unpublished  "  Relacion  "  of  Cortes* 
as  well  as  for  his  unpublished  letters,  I 
am  indebted  to  my  friend  Mi\  Prescott, 
who  has  so  well  used  them  in  his  "Con- 
quest of  Mexico." 

Since  this  note  was  first  published, 
(1849,)  the  last  Relacion  has  been  print- 
ed, (Ijib.  de  Autores  Espaholes,  Tom. 
XXII.  1852,)  and  is  found  to  be  dated 
September  3,  1526.  A  letter  from  the 
".lusticia  y  Regimiento"  of  Vera  Cruz, 
dated  July  10,  1519,  is  prefixed  to  this 
series  of  four,  as  if  it  were  itself  the 
first  Relacion;  and  perhaps  it  may  thus 
have  given  lise  originally  to  the  idea 
that  a  Relacion  of  Cortes  was  lost,  when 
it  was  never  written.  It  seems  to  me 
likely  that  there  never  were  but  four 
by  Cortes  himself,  although  the  one  by 
the  Ji/s/icia,  1519,  is  of  similar  charac- 
ter and  authority. 


36  GOMAEA.  [PKKinij  II. 

wrongs,  he  pleases  himself  "with  telling  the  Emperor 
that  he  '-keeps  two  of  his  Majesty's  letters  like  holy 
relics,"  adding  that  "the  favors  of  his  Majesty  towards 
him  had  been  quite  too  ample  for  so  small  a  vase  " ;  — 
courtly  and  graceful  phrases,  such  as  are  not  found  in 
the  documents  of  his  later  years,  when,  disappointed 
and  disgusted  with  affairs  and  with  the  court,  he  re- 
tired to  a  morose  solitude,  where  he  died  in  1554, 
little  consoled  by  his  rank,  his  wealth,  or  his  glor}^. 
The  marvellous  achievements  of  Cortes  in  Mexico, 
however,  were  more  fully,  if  not  more  accurately, 
recorded  by  Francisco  Lopez  de  Gomara,  —  the  oldest 
of  the  regular  historians  of  the  New  World,^*  —  wlio 
was  born  at  Seville  in  1510,  and  was,  for  some  time, 
Professor  of  Rhetoric  at  Alcala.  His  early  life,  spent 
in  the  great  mart  of  American  adventurers,  seems  to 
have  o'iven  him  an  interest  in  them  and  a  knowledo-e 
of  their  affairs,  Avhicli  led  him  to  write  their  history ; 
and  a  residence  in  Italy,  to  which  he  refers  more  than 
once,  and  during  which,  in  Venice  and  Bologna,  he 
became  familiar  with  such  remarkable  men  as  Saxo 
Grannnaticus  and  Olaus  Magnus,  enlarged  his  knowl- 
edge beyond  the  common  reach  of  Spanish  scholars  of 
his  time,  and  fitted  him  better  for  his  task  than  he 
could  have  been  fitted  at  home.  The  works  he  pro- 
duced, besides  one  or  two  of  less  consequence, 
*  31  *were,  first,  his  ''History  of  the  Indies,"  which, 
after  the  Spanish  fashion,  begins  with  the  crea- 
tion of  the  world,  and  ends  with  the  glories  of  Spain, 
though  it  is  chiefly  devoted  to  Columbus  and  the  dis- 
covery and  conquest  of  Peru  ;  and,  second,  his  "  Chron- 
icle of  New  Spain,"  which  is,  in  truth,  merely  the  His- 

'••  "Tlie  first  worthy  of  being  so  called,"  says  Munoz,  Hist,  del  Xuevo  Mundo, 
Madrid,  1793,  folio,  ]>.  xviii. 


Chai'.  XL]  GOMAEA,    BERNAL    DIAZ.  O/ 

tory  «ind  Life  of  Cortes,  and  Avliicli,  with  this  more 
appropriate  title,  was  reprinted  by  Bustamante,  in 
Mexico,  in  1826.^'^  As  the  earhest  records  that  were 
published  concerning  affairs  which  already  stirred  the 
whole  of  Christendom,  these  works  had,  at  once,  a 
great  success,  passing  through  two  editions  almost 
immediately,  and  being  soon  translated  into  French, 
English,  and  Italian. 

But,  though  Gomara's  style  is  easy  and  flowing, 
both  in  his  mere  narration  and  in  those  parts  of  his 
^vorks  wdiieh  so  amply  describe  the  resources  of  the 
newly  discovered  countries,  he  did  not  succeed  in 
producing  anything  of  pennanent  authority.  He  was 
the  secretary  of  Cortes,  and  w^as  misled  by  information 
received  from  him,  and  from  other  persons,  who  w^ere 
too  much  a  part  of  the  story  they  undertook  to  relate 
to  tell  it  fairly .^*^  His  mistakes,  in  consequence,  are 
great  and  frequent,  and  were  exposed  with  much  zeal 
by  Bernal  Diaz,  an  old  soldier,  wdio,  having  already 
been  twice  to  the  New  World,  w^ent  wdth  Cortes  to 
Mexico    in    1519,^^   and    fought   there    so    often    and 

^5  The  two  works  of  GoiDara  may  he  his  chaplain  and  servant,  after  he  was 

well   consulted  in   Barcia,    "  Historia-  made  Marquis  and  returned  to  Spain 

dores  Primitives,"  Tom.  II.,  which  they  the  last  time."      Las  Casas,    (Historia 

till,  and  in  Vol.  XXII.  of  the  Biblio-  de  las  Indias,  Parte  III.  c.  113,  MS.,) 

teca  of  Ribadeneyra.      They  were  first  a  prejudiced  witness,  but,  on  a  point  of 

printed  in  1552,  1553,  and  1554  ;  and  fact  within  his  own  knowledge,  one  to 

though,  as  Antonio  says,   (Rib.   Nov.,  be  believed. 

Tom.  I.  p.  437, )  they  were  at  once  for-  ^"^  See  "Historia  Verdadera  de  la 
bidden  to  be  either  reprinted  or  read,  Conquista  de  la  Nueva  Espana,  per  el 
four  editions  of  them  appeared  before  Capitan  Bernal  Diaz  del  Castillo,  uno 
the  end  of  the  century.  They  were  de  los  Conquistadores,"  Madrid,  1632, 
also  translated  into  English,  Italian,  folio,  cap.  211.  It  was  prepared  for 
and  French,  and  ]n-inted  several  times  publication  l)y  Alfonso  Ramon,  or  Re- 
in each  language.  mon,   who   wrote   the    History  of  the 

^^  "About  this  first  going  of  Cortes  Order  of  Mercy  and  many  other  works, 

as  captain  on  this  expedition,  the  eccle-  including  dramas.     Conf.  N.  Ant.,  Bib. 

siastic  Gomara  tells  many  things  grossly  Nov.,  Tom.  I.  p.  42.     But  his  edition 

untrue  in  his  history,  as  might  be  ex-  (1632)    does   not    seem   to  have   been 

pected  from  a  man  who  neither  saw  nor  printed   from  a  complete   manuscript, 

heard    anything    about    them,    except  and  the  more  recent  one  of  Cano,  in 

what    Fernando   Cortes    told    him  and  four  volumes,    is  mutilated   from   that 

gave  him  in  writing;   Gomara   being  of  1632.     But  it  is  reprinted  in  Riba- 


38  BEEXAL    DIAZ,    OVIEDO.  [rEinuD  II. 

*  32  so  *  long,  that,  many  years  afterwards,  he  de- 
clared he  could  not  sleep  in  any  tolerable  com- 
fort without  his  arinor.^^  As  soon  as  he  read  the 
accounts  of  Gomara,  which,  in  his  opinion,  gave  too 
much  honor  to  Cortes  and  too  little  to  Cortes's  com- 
panions and  captains,  he  set  himself  sturdily  at  work 
to  answer  them,  and  in  1568  completed  his  task.^^ 
The  book  he  thus  produced  is  written  with  much  gar- 
rulity, and  runs,  in  a  rude  style,  into  wearisome  details ; 
but  it  is  full  of  the  zealous  and  honest  nationality 
of  the  old  chronicles,  so  that  while  we  are  reading  it 
we  seem  to  be  carried  back  into  the  preceding  ages, 
and  to  be  again  in  the  midst  of  a  sort  of  fervor  and 
faith  which,  in  writers  like  Gomara  and  Cortes,  we  feel 
sure  we  are  ftist  leaving  behind  us. 

Among  the  persons  who  early  came  to  America,  and 
have  left  important  records  of  their  adventures  and 
times,  one  of  the  most  considerable  was  Gonzalo  Fer- 
nandez de  Oviedo  y  Valdes.  He  was  born  at  Madrid, 
in  1478,^  and,  having  been  well  educated  at  the  court 
of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  as  one  of  the  mozos  de 
camara  of  Prince  John,  was  sent  out  in  1513  as  a  super- 
visor of  gold-smeltings,  to  Tierra  Finne^^  where,  except 

denejTa's  Bibliotoca,  Vol.  XXVI.,  1853,  charger  as  carefully  as  he  does  those 

with  a   good   jircfatory  notice  by  Don  of  his  rider.     His  accuracy,   however, 

Enri([ue  ih;  Vedia,  doing  justice  to  the  — hating  accidents  from  tlie  lapse  of 

brave   old   chronicler,    who    never   re-  time, — is  remarkable.     Sayas  ^Anah-s 

turned  to  Spain,  and  died  very  old  at  de  Aragon,   1667,  c.  30,  p.  218)  bears 

Guatemala.  witness  to  it,  and  is  a  good  authority. 

1"  He  says  he  was  in  one  hundied  '•'*'  "Yo  naci  anode  1478,"  he  says, 
and  nineteen  battles,  (f.  254,  b, )  —  that  in  his  "Quinquagenas,"  when  noticing 
is,  I  suppose,  fights  of  all  kinds,  —  Pedro  Fernandez  de  Cordoba  ;  and  he 
and  that,  of  the  five  hundred  and  fifty  moic  than  once  speaks  of  himself  as  a 
who  went  witli  him  to  Mexico  in  1519,  native  of  Madrid.  He  says,  too,  ex- 
five  were  living  when  he  WTote  at  Gua-  pressly,  tliat  he  was  present  at  the  sur- 
temala,  in  1568,  f.  250,  a.  render  of  Granada,    and  that   he  saw 

^^  It   was   dedicated   to    Philip    IV.  Columbus   at    liaicelona,    on   his  first 

Some  of  its  details  are  quite  amusing.  return  from  America,  in  1493.     Quin- 

He  gives  even  a  list  of  the  individual  (jua-jcnas,  MS. 

hor.ses  that  were  used  on  the  gicat  ex-  ^r  "  Yeedor  de   las   Fundiciones   de 

pedition  of  Coiles,  and  often  describes  Oro,'"  he  describes  himself  in  the  Proe- 

the    se]»arate   qualities    of    a    favorite  miu  of  hi.^  work  presented  to  Charles 


Chai'.  VI.]        GONZALO    FEIJXANDEZ    I)E    OVIEDO.  39 

occasional  visits  to  Spain  and  to  difterent  Spanish  pos- 
sessions in  America,  he  lived  nearly  forty  ^-ears,  de- 
voted to  the  affairs  of  the  New  World.  Oviedo 
seems,  from  his  youth,  to  liave  had  a  passion  for 
knowing  remarkable  persons  as  well  as  for  writing 
about  them ;  and,  besides  several  less  considera- 
ble *W'Orks,  among  which  were  imperfect  chron-  *  33 
icles  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  and  of  Charles 
the  Fifth,  and  a  life  of  Cardinal  Ximenes,^  he  prepared 
two  of  no  small  value.  ^ 

The  most  important  of  these  two  is  the  "General 
and  Natural  History  of  the  Indies,"  filling  fifty  books^ 
of  which  the  first  portions,  embracing  twenty-one,  were 
published  in  1535.  As  early  as  1525,  when  he  was  at 
Toledo,  and  offered  Cliarles  the  Fifth  a  summary  of 
the  History  of  the  Spanish  Conquests  in  the  New 
A¥orld,  which  was  published  three  years  later,  he 
speaks  of  his  desire  to  have  his  larger  work  printed. 
But  it  appears,  from  the  beginning  of  the  thirty- 
third  book  and  the  end  of  the  thirty-fourth,  that  he 
was  still  employed  upon  it  in  1547  and  1548;  and  it  is 
not  unlikely,  from  the  words  with  which  he  concludes 
the  thirty-seventh,  that  he  kept  each  of  its  larger  divis- 
ions open,  and  continued  to  make  additions  to  them 
nearly  to  the  time  of  his  death.-'^ 

v.,    in   1525    (Bavcia,   Tom.    I.);    and  Emperor,  at  the  end  of  the  "  Suinaiio," 

lonj;  afterwards,  in  the  opening  of  Book  in  1525,  "La  General  y  NaC\iral  Hi.s- 

XLVII.  of  his  Historias,  MS.,  lie  still  toria   de   las  Indias,  ()ue  de  mi  niano 

•Speaks  of  himself  as  holding  tlie  same  tengo  escrita";  —  in  the  Introduction 

office.  to  Lib.  XXXIII.  he  says,  "En  treinta 

--  1  do  not  feel  sure  that  Antonio  is  y  quatro  anos  que  ha  que  estoy  en  estas 

not  mistaken  in  ascribing  to  Oviedo  a  partes";  —  and  in  the  ninth  chapter, 

scparati'  life  of  Cardinal  Ximenes,  be-  which  ends  Lib.  XXXIV.,  we  have  au 

cau.se  the  life  contained  in  the  "  Quin-  event  recorded  with  the  date  of  1548  ; 

•piagenas  "  is  so  ample  ;  but  the  Chron-  — so  that,  for  these  tliree-and-twenty 

icles  of  Ferdinand   and    Isabella,   and  years,  he  was  certainly  employed,  more 

Charles  V.,   are  alluded  to  by  Oviedo  or  les.s,  on  this  great  woik.      But  at  the 

liimself  in  the  Proemio  to  Charles  V.  end  of  Book   XXXVII.   he  says,    "Y 

Neither  has  ever  been  ])rinte(l.  csto  baste  quanto  a  este  l)reve  libro  del 

*^  He  calls   it,   in    his   letter  to   the  nuiiicro    treinta  y   siefe,    hasta   (pie  el 


40  GOXZALO    FERXAXDEZ    DE    OVIEDO.      [Pekiod  II. 

He  tells  US  that  he  had  the  Emperor's  authority 
to  demand,  from  the  different  governors  of  Spanish 
America,  the  documents  he  might  need  for  his  work  ;  -^ 
and,  as  his  divisions  of  the  sujjject  are  those  which 
naturally  arise  from  its  geography,  he  appears  to  have 
gone  judiciously  ahout  his  task.      But  the  materials  lie 

was  to  use  were  in  too  crude  a  state  to  be 
*  34     easily  manageable,  and  the  whole  *  subject  w\as 

too  wide  and  various  for  his  powers.  He  falls, 
therefore,  into  a  loose,  rambling  style,  instead  of  aim- 
ing at  philosophical  condensation ;  and,  far  from  an 
abridgment,  which  his  work  ought  to  have  been,  he 
gives  us  chronicling,  documentary  accounts  of  an  im- 
mense extent  of  newly  discovered  country,  and  of  the 
extraordinary  events  that  had  been  passing  there,  — 
sometimes  too  short  and  slight  to  be  satisfactory-  or 
interesting,  and  sometimes  too  detailed  for  the  reader's 
patience.  He  was  evidently  a  learned  man,  and  main- 
tained a  correspondence  with  Ramusio,  the  Italian 
geographer,  which  could  not  fail  to  be  useful  to  both 
parties.'^''  And  he  was  desirous  to  write  in  a  good  and 
eloquent  style,  in  which  he  sometimes  succeeded.  He 
has,  therefore,  on  the  whole,  pioduced  a  series  of 
accounts  of  the  natural  condition,  the  aboriginal  inhab- 

tiempo  nos  aviso,  de  otras  cosas  que  en  times,  by  Herrera,  Taniayo,  Soli's,  and 

el  se  acn-scieutan  "  ;  from  whidi  I  in-  other  writers  of  (listinction.      It  ceased, 

fer  that   he  kept  each   l)ook,   or  each  I  believe,  with  the  creation  of  tlie  Acad- 

large  division  of  his  work,  open  for  ad-  eniy  of  History.    . 

<litions,  as  long  as  he  lived,  and  tliere-  '^  "  We  owe  much  to  those  who  give 
fore  that  parts  of  it  vmy  have  been  us  notice  of  what  we  have  not  seen  or 
written  as  late  as  1557.  known  ourselves;  as  I  am  now  indebted 
'■^*  "I  have  royal  orders  that  the  gov-  to  a  remarkable  and  leained  man,  of  the 
eniors  should  send  me  a  relation  of  illustrious  Senate  of  Venice,  called  Sec- 
whatever  I  sliall  touch  in  the  affairs  retaiy  Juan  Bautista  Ramusio,  who, 
of  theii-  governments  for  this  History."  hearing  that  I  was  inclined  to  the 
(Lib.  X.X.XIII.,  Introd.,  MS.)  I  ap-  things  of  which  I  here  treat,  has,  with - 
prehend  Oviedo  was  the  first  authomed  out  knowing  me  personally,  souglit 
f-'hronirlt-r  of  the  New  World  ;  an  office  me  for  his  friend,  and  roinmunicated 
whii-h  was  at  one  ])eriud  better  ])aid  with  me  l)y  letter-S,  sending  me  a  new 
liian  any  otiier  similar  offii-e  in  th<;  geography,"  etc.  (Lib.  XXXVllI., 
J<ingdom,    ami   was    li>-ld     at    ditferent  MS.) 


CiiAi'.  VI.|         GOXZALO    FERNANDEZ    J)E    OVIEDO. 


41 


itants,  and  the  political  affairs,  of  the  wide-spread 
Spanish  possessions  in  America,  as  they  stood  in  the 
middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  wliicli  is  of  great 
value  as  a  vast  repository  of  facts,  and  not  wholly 
without  merit  as  a  composition.^*' 

*  The  other  considerable  work  of  Oviedo,  the    *  35 


■■'*'  As  a  specimen  of  his  manner  I  add 
tlie  following  account  of  Almagro,  one 
of  the  early  adventurers  in  Peru,  whom 
the  Pizarros  put  to  death  in  Cuzco, 
after  they  had  obtained  uncontrolled 
]>ower  there.  ' '  Therefore  hear  and  read 
all  the  authors  you  may,  and  compare, 
one  by  one,  whatever  they  relate,  that 
all  men,  not  kings,  liave  freely  given 
away,  and  you  shall  surely  see  how 
there  is  none  that  can  eipial  Almagro 
in  this  matter,  and  how  none  can  be 
compared  to  him  ;  for  kings,  indeed, 
may  give  and  know  how  to  give  what- 
ever pleaseth  them,  both  cities  and 
lands,  and  lordships)  and  other  great 
gifts  ;  but  that  a  man  whom  yesterday 
we  saw  so  ]wor  that  all  he  possessed  was 
a  very  small  matter  should  have  a  spirit 
sufficient  for  what  I  have  related,  —  1 
liold  it  to  be  so  great  a  thing  that  I 
know  not  the  like  of  it  in  our  own  or 
any  other  time.  For  I  myself  saw, 
when  his  companion,  PizaiTO,  came 
from  Spain,  and  brought  with  him  that 
body  01  three  hundred  men  to  Panama, 
that,  if  Almagro  had  not  received  them, 
and  shown  them  so  much  free  hospi- 
tality with  so  generous  a  spirit,  few  or 
none  of  them  could  have  escaped  alive  ; 
for  the  land  was  tilled  with  disease, 
and  the  means  of  living  were  so  dear 
that  a  bushel  of  maize  was  worth  two 
or  three  pesos,  and  an  arroba  of  wine 
six  or  seven  gold  pieces.  To  all  of 
them  he  was  a  father,  and  a  brother, 
and  a  true  friend  ;  for,  inasmuch  as  it 
is  pleasant  and  grateful  to  some  men 
to  make  gain,  and  to  heaji  up  and  to 
gather  together  moneys  and  estates, 
even  so  much  and  more  pleasant  was  it 
to  him  to  share  with  others  and  to  give 
away  ;  so  that  the  day  when  he  gave 
nothing  he  accounted  it  for  a  day  lost. 
And  in  his  very  face  you  might  see  the 
pleasure  and  true  delight  he  felt  when 
lie  found  occasion  to  help  him  who  had 
need.  And  since,  after  so  long  a  fel- 
lowship and  friendship  as  there  was  be- 
tween these  two  gi'cat  leaders,  from  the 


days  when  their  com])anions  were  few 
and  their  means  small,  till  they  saw 
themselves  full  of  wealth  and  strength, 
there  hath  at  last  come  foith  so  much 
discord,  scandal,  and  death,  well  must 
it  appear  matter  of  wonder  even  to 
those  who  shall  but  hear  of  it,  and 
much  more  to  us,  who  knew  them  in 
their  low  estate,  and  have  no  less  borne 
witness  to  their  greatness  and  prospei'- 
ity."  (General  y  Natural  Historia  de 
las  Indias,  Lib.  XLVIL,  MS.)  Much 
of  it  is,  like  the  preceding  passage,  in 
the  true,  old,  rambling,  moializing, 
chronicling  vein. 

Since  the  preceding  account  of  the- 
"Historia  General"  of  Oviedo  was 
printed,  (1849,)  the  whole  work  has 
been  published  by  the  Spanish  Acad- 
emy of  History,  in  four  rich  folio  vol- 
imies,  Madrid,  1851-1855,  edited  by 
Don  Jose  Amador  de  los  Rios.  The 
Prefatory  notice  contains  a  Life  of  Ovi- 
edo, with  an  account  of  his  works, 
among  which  are  two  that  have  been 
published,  and  should  be  at  least  men- 
tioned. The  lirst  is  "  Claribalte,"  com- 
posed during  a  period  when  Oviedo  was 
out  of  favor  at  court,  and  printed  at 
Valencia  in  1519  ;  —  a  book  which  it  is 
singular  he  should  have  written,  be- 
cause it  is  a  Romance  of  Chivalry,  and, 
in  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  when  such 
fictions  were  at  the  height  of  their  favoi', 
nobody  treated  them  with  more  seveiity 
than  he  did.  Tiie  other  is  an  ascetic 
work,  entitled  "  Reglas  de  la  Vida," 
which,  he  says,  he  translated  from  the 
Tuscan,  and  which  was  printed  at  Se- 
ville in  1548,  but  which  is  now  become 
so  rare  that  Sr.  Amador  has  never  seen 
it,  and  does  not  determine  precisely 
what  it  was,  nor  who  was  its  original 
author.  Of  the  works  in  manuscript, 
which,  besides  the  two  Quimiuagenas, 
amount  to  six,  we  should,  1  suppose,  be 
most  curious  to  see  tlie  account  Oviedo 
prepared  of  the  occui  rences  and  gossip 
at  the  conit  of  l^Tacbid  during  the  cap- 
tivity of  Kiiinuis  I.,  in  ]r>2'). 


42  BAUTOLEMK    DE    LAS    C'ASAS.  [Piiuop  IT. 

fruit  of  his  old  age,  is  devoted  to  fond  recollee- 
tioiis  of  his  native  country,  and  of  the  disting-uished 
men  he  had  known  there.  He  calls  it  "  Batallas  y 
Quinquagenas,"  and  it  consists  of  a  series  of  dialogues, 
in  which,  with  httle  method  or  order,  he  gives  gossip- 
ing accounts  of  the  principal  families  that  figured  in 
Spain  during  the  times  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  and 
Charles  the  Fifth,  mingled  with  anecdotes  and  recol- 
lections, such  as  —  not  without  a  simple-hearted  exhi- 
bition of  his  own  vanity  —  the  memory  of  his  long 
and  busy  life  could  furnish.  It  apjDcars  from  the  Dia- 
lo<i:ue  on  Cardinal  Ximenes,  and  elsewhere,  that  he 
was  employed  on  it  as  early  as  1545;^'  but  the  year 

1550  occurs  yet  more  frequently  anu^ng  the 
*  3G    dates  of  its  imaginary  conversations,^^  and  it  *  is 

probable  that  he  continued  to  add  to  it,  as  he 
did  to  his  History,  imtil  near  the  end  of  his  life,  for  it 
seems  still  imperfect.  He  died  at  Valladolid  in  1557. 
But,  l)oth  during  his  life,  and  after  his  death,  Oviedo 
had  a  formidable  adversary,  who,  pursuing  nearly  the 
same  course  of  inquiries  respecting  the  New  World, 
came  almost  constantly'  to  conclusions  quite  opposite. 
This  was  no  less  a  person  than  Bartolome  de  las 
Casas,  or  Casaus,  the  apostle  and  defender  of  the  Amer- 


2'  "En  pstft  qw  pstamos  dp  1545."  "  Batallas  y  Quinquagenas "  are  not  to 

Batallas  y  Quin<iuagcnu.s,  MS.,  El  Car-  he  confounded  with  a  poem  \\liiih  Ovi- 

diiial  C'i.sneios.  edo  entitled  "Las  Quin<iuag('nas,"  on 

2*  As  in   the  Dialoguo  on  Juan  de  the  di.stingui.shed  Spaniards  of  all  times, 

Silva,    Conde    de    Cifuente.s,    he    .says,  and  which  he  conijileted  in  L556,  in  one 

"En  este  ano  en  f[ne  estanios  L'>50  "  ;  hundred  and  fifty  stanzas  of  fifty  lines 

and  in  the  Dialogue  on  Mendoza,  Duke  each,  or  seven   thousand  five  hundreil 

of  Ld'antado,  he  uses  the  same  words,  lines  in  all;  —  an   error  into  which   I 

as  he  does  again  in  tliat  on  Pedro  Fer-  fell  in  tiie  first  edition  of  this  work, 

nandez  de  ('(irdova.     There  is  an  exc(d-  owing  (diieily   to   an    oliscurity   in   the 

lent  note  on  Oviedo  in  Vol.    I.   j).   112  account  of  the  two  Quinquagenas  by 

of  the  American  edition  of  "Ferdinand  ("lemencin,  in  his  Elogin  on  Queen  I.sa- 

and  Isabel'a,"  hy  my  friend   Mr.  I'res-  hella.     It  is  mucli  to  he  desired  that 

cott,   to  whom   I  am   indebted   for  tlie  both  .should  be  publi.shed,  anil  we  can 

manu.scri[)t  of  the  Batallas  y  Quinqua-  have  no  accurate  idea  of  them  till  they 

gena.s,  as  well  as  of  the  Historia.     The  are. 


CiiAi'.   VI.]  BAltTOLEME    DE    LAS    CASA.S.  43 

ican  Indians,-^  —  a  m-an  "vvlio  would  have  been  remfirk- 
able  in  any  age  of  the  worhl,  and  who  does  not  seem 
yet  to  have  gathered  m  the  fidl  harvest  of  his  honors. 
He  was  born  in  Seville,  probably  in  1474 ;  and,  in 
1502,  havino-  gone  throuo-h  a  course  of  studies  at  Sala- 
manca,  embarked  for  the  Indies,  where  his  father,  who 
had  been  there  with  Columbus  nine  years  earlier,  had 
already  accumulated  a  decent  fortune. 

The  attention  of  the  young  man  was  at  once  drawn 
to  the  condition  of  the  natives,  from  the  circumstance 
that  one  of  them,  given  to  his  father  by  Columbus,  had 
been  attached  to  his  own  person  as  a  slave,  while  he 
was  still  at  the  University;  and  he  was  not  slow  to 
learn,  on  his  arrival  in  Hispaniola,  that  their  gentle  na- 
tures and  slight  frames  had  already  been  subjected,  in 
the  mines  and  in  other  forms  of  toil,  to  a  servitude  so 
harsh  that  the  original  inhabitants  of  the  island  were 
rapidly  wasting  away  under  the  severity  of  their  la- 
bors. From  this  moment  he  devoted  his  life  to  their 
emancipation.  In  1510  he  took  holy  orders,  and  con- 
tinued as  a  priest,  and,  for  a  short  time,  as  Bishop  of 
Chiapa,  nearly  forty  years,  to  teach,  strengthen,  and 
console,  the  suffering  flock  committed  to  his  charge. 
Six  times,  at  least,  he  crossed  the  Atlantic,  in  order  to 
persuade  the  government  of  Charles  the  Fifth  to 
ameliorate  their  condition,  and  always  with 
more  or  less  *  success.  At  last,  but  not  until  *  37 
1547,  when  he  was  above  seventy  years  old,  he 
established  himself  at  Valladolid,  in  Spain,  where  he 
passed  the  remainder  of  his  serene  old  age,  giving  it 
freely  to  the  great  cause  to  which  he  had  devoted  the 

^  The  family  was  originally  French,  Chronicle  of  John  II.   its  descendants 

spelling  its  name  Casaus ;  but  it  appeals  are  called  Las  Casas,  and  Fr.  Bartolome 

in  Spanish  history  as  early  as  1253,  in  wrote  his  name  both  ways.     Later  they 

the  Repartimiento  of  Seville.     (Zuhimi,  reverted  to  the  original  spelling.     Gu- 

Anales  de  Sevilla,  1677,  p.  75.)     In  tiie  diel,  Faniilia  de  los  Girones,  1577,  f.  98. 


44  BAllTOLEME    DE    LAS    CASAS.  [Pehiod  II. 

freshness  of  his  3'oiith.  He  died,  while  on  a  visit  of 
business,  at  Madrid,  in  1566,  at  the  advanced  age,  as  is 
commonly  supposed,  of  ninety-two.^^ 

Among  the  principal  opponents  of  his  benevolence 
were  Sepulveda, — one  of  the  leading  men  of  letters 
and  casuists  of  the  time  in  Spain,  —  and  Oviedo,  who, 
from  his  connection  ^vith  the  mines  and  his  share  in  the 
government  of  different  parts  of  the  newly  discovered 
countries,  had  an  interest  directly  opposite  to  the  one 
Las  Casas  defended.  These  two  persons,  with  large 
means  and  a  wide  influence  to  sustain  them,  intrigued, 
wa^ote,  and  toiled  against  him,  in  every  w^ay  in  their 
power.  But  his  was  not  a  spirit  to  be  daunted  by 
opposition  or  deluded  by  sophistry  and  intrigue ;  and 
when,  in  1519,  in  a  discussion  with  Sepulveda  concern- 
ing the  Indians,  held  in  the  presence  of  the  young  and 
proud  Emperor  Charles  the  Fifth,  Las  Casas  said,  '•  It  is 
quite  certain  that,  speaking  with  all  the  respect  and 
reverence  due  to  so  great  a  sovereign,  I  would  not, 
save  in  the  way  of  duty  and  obedience  as  a  subject,  go 
from  the  place  where  I  now  stand  to  the  op^DOsite  cor- 
ner of  this  room,  to  serve  your  Majesty,  unless  I 
believed   I   should   at   the    same   time   serve    God,"^^ 

^  There  is  a  valuable  life  of  Las  Casas  taken  by  the  Portuguese  in  war  ami 

inQuintana,  "ViJas  de  Espanoles  Ci'le-  nghtful    slaves.       But    afterwards    be 

bres"  (Madrid,  1833,  12nio,  Tom.  III.  chauj^'fil  bis  mind  on  the  subject.     He 

pp.  255-510).     The  seventh  article  in  declared  "the  captivity  of  the  negroes 

the  Apjjendix,  concerning  the  conn(;c-  to  be  as  unjust  as  that  of  the  Indians," 

tion  of  Las  Casas  with  the  slave-trade,  —  "ser  tan  injusto  el  cautiverio  de  los 

will  be  read  with  ]>articular  interest;  negros  como  el  de  los  Indios,"  —  and 

becau.se,  by  materials  drawn  from  un-  even  expres.sed  a  fear  that,  though  he 

published  documents  of  unquestionable  hail  fallen  into  the  eiTor  of  favoring  the 

authenticity,  it  makes  it  certain  that,  importation  of  black  slaves  into  Amer- 

although  at  one  time  Las  Casas  favored  ica  from   ignorance  and  good-will,   he 

what   had    been    begun   earlier,  —  the  might,  after  all,  fail  to  stand  excused 

transportation,    I   mean,  of  negi'oes  to  for  it  In^fore  the  Divine  Justice.     Quin- 

the  West  Indies,  in  order  to  relieve  the  tana,  Tom.  HI.  ]>.  471. 
Indian.s, — as  other  good   men  in  his  ^i  Quintana,  EspauolesCelebres,  Tom. 

time  favored  it,  he  diil  so  under  the  111.  ]).  321.     1  think,  but  am  not  sure, 

im[iression  tliat,  according  to  the  law  that  (^uintana  dix-s  not  .say  La.s  Casas 

of  nations,   the  negroes   thus  brought  was  made  a  chajilain  of  Cliarles  V.  out 

to  America  were  both  rightful  captives  of  personal  regard  ;  —  a   circumstance 


(MAP.   VI.]  IJAUTOLK^n':    1)E    LAS    TASAS.  45 

—  when  he  said  this,  he  uttered  a  sentiment 
*that  really  governed  his  life,  and  constituted  *  38 
the  basis  of  the  great  power  he  exercised.  His 
works  are  pervaded  by  it.  The  earliest  of  them,  called 
•'  A  very  Short  Account  of  the  Ruin  of  the  Indies,"  was 
written  in  l-542;^-^  and  dedicated  to  the  Prince,  after- 
wards Philip  the  Second  ;  —  a  tract  in  which,  no  doubt, 
the  sufterings  and  wrongs  of  the  Indians  are  much 
overstated  by  the  mdignant  zeal  of  its  author,  but  still 
one  whose  expositions  are  founded  in  truth,  Jind  b}- 
their  fervor  awakened  all  Europe  to  a  sense  of  the  in- 
justice they  set  forth.  Other  short  treatises  followed, 
written  with  similar  spirit  and  power,  especially  those 
in  reply  to  Sepulveda ;  but  none  was  so  often  re- 
printed, either  at  home  or  abroad,  as  the  first,^  and 
none  ever  produced  so  deep  and  solemn  an  effect  on 
the  world.  They  were  all  collected  and  published  in 
1552  ;  and,  besides  being  translated  into  other  lan- 
guages at  the  time,  an  edition  in  Sj^anish,  and  a  French 
version  of  the  wdiole,  with  two  more  treatises  than  were 
contained  in  the  first  collection,  appeared  at  Paris  in 
1822,  prepared  by  Llorente. 

mentioned  by  Argensola,  who,  it  should  Las  Casas  by  Llorente,  which  appeared 

be  added,  gives  a  fair  and  interesting  at  Paris  in  1822,  in  2  vols.,  8vo,  in  tlie 

account  of  the  Apostle  to  the  Indians,  original  Spanish,  almost  at  the  same 

so  far  as  his  History  of  Aragon  comes  time  with  his  translation  of  tliem  into 

down.      Anales    de    Aragon,    Tom.    L  French.      It   should   be   noticed,    jjcr- 

1630,  p.  .547.  haps,  that  Llorente's  version  is  not  al- 

^^  Quintana    (p.    413,    note)    doubts  ways  strict,  and  that  the  two  new  trea- 

wlieii  this  famous  treatise  was  written  ;  tises  he  imputes  to  Las  Casas,  as  well 

but    Las   Casas    himself    says,    in    the  as  tlie  one  on  the  Authoritj'  of  Kings, 

opening  of  his  "  Brevisiina  Relacion,"  are  not  absolutely  proved  to  be  his. 
that   it  was  written  in    1542,    and  at  The  translation  referred  to  above  ap- 

the  end  it  is  noted  as  finished  at  Va-  peared,  in  fact,  the  same  year,  and  at 

lencia,  December  8,    1542;   an  "Adi-  the  end   of  it   an    "  Apologie  de   Las 

cion"  or  postscript   following,  which  is  Casas,"    by    Gregoire,    with   letters  of 

dated  1546  in  tlia  copy  I  use.  Funes  and  ]\Iier,  and  notes  of  Llorente 

^  This  important  tract  continued  to  sustain  it,  —  all  to  defend  Las  Casas 
long  to  be  printed  separately,  both  at  on  the  subject  of  the  slave-trade  ;  but 
home  and  abroad.  I  use  a  copy  of  it  Quintana,  as  we  have  seen,  has  gone  to 
in  double  columns,  Spanish  and  Italian,  the  original  documents,  and  leaves  no 
Venice,  1643,  12ino  ;  but,  like  the  rest,  doubt,  both  that  Las  Casas  once  favored 
the  "  Brevisima  Relacion"  mayl)econ-  it,  and  that  he  altered  liis  mind  after- 
suited  in  an  edition  of  the  AVorks  of  wards. 


46  BAKTOLEME    DE    LAS    CASAS.  [Pkkioi)  II. 

Tlic  great  work  of  Las  Casas,  liowever,  still  remains 
inedited, —  a  General  History  of  the  Indies  from  1492 
to  1520,  begun  by  him  in  1-327  and  finished  in  1561, 
but  of  Avhicli  he  oi-dered  that  no  portion  shoidd  be 
]niblished  within  forty  ^-ears  of  his  death. 
*  39  *  Like  his  other  works,  it  shows  marks  of  haste 
and   carelessness,  and    is  written   in  a  ramblincr 

o 

stj'le ;  but  its  value,  notwithstanding  his  too  fervent 
zeal  for  the  Lidians,  is  great.  He  had  l)een  personally 
acquainted  with  many  of  the  early  discoverers  and 
conquerors,  and  at  one  time  possessed  the  papers  of 
Columbus,  and  a  large  mass  of  other  important  docu- 
ments, which  are  now  lost.  He  says  he  had  known 
Cortes  "when  he  was  so  low  and  humble,  that  he  be- 
sought favor  from  the  meanest  servant  of  Dieo-o  A'^elas- 
quez  " ;  and  he  knew  him  afterwards,  he  tells  us,  when, 
in  his  pride  of  place  at  the  court  of  the  Emperor,  he 
ventured  to  jest  jdjout  the  pretty  corsairs  part  lie  liad 
played  in  the  affairs  of  Montezuma.^*  He  knew,  too, 
Gomara  and  Oviedo.  and  gives  at  large  his  reasons  for 
differing  from  them.  In  short,  his  book,  divided  into 
three  parts,  is  a  great  repository,  to  which  Herrera, 
and  through  him  all  the  historians  of  the  Indies  since, 
have  resorted  for  materials  ;  and  without  which  the 
history  of  the  earliest  period  of  the  Spanish  settle- 
ments in  America  cannot  even  now  be  properlj^  writ- 
ten.^ 

But  it  is  not  necessary  to  go  further  into  an  examina- 


^*   "Todof'sto  me  (lixo  p1  mismoror-  MS.)     It  may  be  woitli  noting,   that 

tes  con  oti-as  cosas  ccrca  dello,  despues  1.542,   the  year  when  Cortes  made  this 

de  Mar<|UPs,  en  la  villa  de  Momjon,  es-  srandalous    sjieech,    was    the    year   in 

tando  alU  celebrando  cortes  el  Empera-  whieh  Las  Casas  wrote  his   Brevisima 

dor,  afio  de  mil  y  <jiiinientos  y  quarenta  Kelacion. 

y  dos,  riendo  y  mofando  eon  estas  for-  ^  For  a  notice  of  all  the  works  of 

males  jjalabras,  a  la  mi  fe  andnbe  por  Las  Casas,  see  Quintana,  Vidas,  Tom. 

alii  como  un  geiitil  cosaiio."     (Histuria  III.  pp.  507-510. 
Genei-al  de  1:.>  In.liMs.   Ml,,  III.  ,.  11.5, 


Chai'.  VI. J         VACA,  XEKEZ,  CAKATE.  47 

tion  of  the  old  accounts  of  the  discovery  and  conquest 
of  Spanish  America,  though  there  are  many  more 
■\vhich,  Uke  those  we  have  ah^eady  considered,  are 
partly  books  of  travel  through  countries  fidl  of  won- 
ders, i^artly  chronicles  of  adventures  as  strange  as 
those  of  romance ;  frequently  running  into  idle  and 
loose  details,  but  as  frequently  fresh,  picturesque,  and 
manly,  in  their  tone  and  coloring,  and  almost  always 
striking  from  the  facts  tliey  record  and  the  glimpses 
they  give  of  manners  and  character.  Among  those 
that  might  be  added  are  the  stories  b}^  Yaca  of  his 
shipwreck  and  ten  years'  captivity  in  Florida,  from 
1527  to   1537,  and  his   subsequent  government 

*  for  three  years  of  the  Rio  de  la  Plata ;  ^"^^  the  *  40 
short  account  of  the  conquest  of  Peru,  written  by 
Francisco  de  Xerez,  Secretary  of  Francisco  de  Pi- 
zarro,""  and  the  amjoler  one,  of  the  same  wild  achieve- 
ments, which  Augustin  de  Carate  began  on  the  spot, 
and  was  prevented  by  Carvajal,  an  officer  of  Gonzalo 
de  Pizarro,  from  finishing  till  after  his  return  home."^ 

^  The  two  works  of   Alvar  Nunez  Tom.  III.,)  and  in  Barcia's  collection 

Cabeza  de  Vaca,  namely,  his  "  Naufra-  (Tom.   III.).     It  ends  in  Baicia  with 

gios,"  and  his  "Comentarios  y  Suce-  some  poor  verses  in  defence  of  Xerez, 

SOS  de  su   Gobierno    en   el    Rio  de  la  by  a  friend,  which  are  ampler  and  more 

Plata,"  were  first  printed  in  1555,  and  important  in  the  original  edition,  and 

are  to  be  found  in  Barcia,  Historiadores  contain  notices  of  his  life.     They  are 

Primitivos,  Tom.  I.,  and  in  the  Biblio-  reprinted  in  the  Biblioteca  de  Autorcs 

tecade  AutoresEspanoles,  Tom.  XXII.,  Espafioles,    Tom.    XXVI.,    1853,    and 

1852.     They  are  wild  and  romantic  ac-  Gayangos   conjectures    them    to    have 

•  ■ounts  of  extraordinary  adventures  and  been  written  by  Oviedo. 
sufferings,  particularly  the  JVaufracfios,  ^  "  Hi.storia  del  Desciibrimiento  y 
where  (Chap.  XXII.)  the  author  .seems  Conquista  del  Peru,"  first  printed  in 
TO  think  he  not  only  cui-ed  the  sick  by  1555,  and  several  times  since.  It  is  in 
divine  interpo.sition,  but  that,  in  one  Barcia,  Tom.  III.,  and  in  the  Biblio- 
instance,  he  rai.sed  the  dead.  But,  tecade  AutoresEspanoles,  Tom.  XXVI., 
however  this  may  be,  he  was  evidently  1853,  and  was  translated  into  Italian  by 
a  man  of  gi'eat  courage  and  constancy,  Ulloa.  ^arate  was  sent  out  by  Charles 
and  of  an  elevated  and  generous  na-  V.  to  examine  into  the  state  of  the 
Ture.  revenues  of  Peru,  and  biings  down  his 

^"  The  work  of  Francisco  de  Xerez,  accounts  as   late  as  the  overthrow  of 

"Conquista  del  Peru,"  written  by  order  Gonzalo  Pizarro.     See  an  excellent  no- 

of  Francisco  Pizarro,  was  firet  published  tice  of  Carate  at  the  end  of  Mr.  Pres- 

in  1534  and  1547,  and  is  to  be  found  in  cott's  last  chapter  on  the  Conquest  of 

Ramusio,    (Venezia,   ed.    Giunti,    folio,  Peru. 


48 


EAKLY    ACCOUNTS    OF    AMEKICA.  [I'l.iMoi,  IL 


But  tliey  may  all  be  passed  over,  as  of  less  conse- 
quence than  those  we  have  noticed,  which  are  quite 
sufficient  to  give  an  idea,  both  of  the  nature  of  their 
class  and  the  course  it  followed,  —  a  class  much  resem- 
blinii'  the  old  chronicles,  but  ^'et  one  that  announces 
the  approach  of  those  more  regular  forms  of  historv 
for  which  it  furnishes  abundant  materials. 


Pedro  Cieza  de  Leon,  also,  who  lived 
above  seventeen  years  in  Peru,  pub- 
lished at  Seville,  in  1553,  an  important 
work  on  that  country,' entitled  "  Pri- 
niera  Parte  de  la  Chronica  del  Peru," 
intending  to  conii)lete  and  publish  it 
in  three  other  parts  ;  but  died  in  1560, 
re  i/ifcda,  at  the  age  of  forty-two.  The 
lirst  part  is  reprinted  in  the  Biblioteca 


de  Autores  Espafioles,  Tom.  XXVI., 
and  the  MS.  of  the  third  ]nivt  is  said  to- 
be  in  the  possession  of  James  Lenox, 
Esq.,  New  York.  Gayangos  notices, 
also,  a  small  publication  in  eight  leaves, 
in  the  British  Museum,  entitled  La 
Cnnquisf.d,  del  Peru,  which  he  thinks  is 
like  a  gazette,  and  may  have  been  the 
lirst  publication  on  the  subject. 


*CHArTErt    VII.  *41 

THEATRE. INFLUENCE  OF  THE  CHURCH  AND    THE   INQUISITION    MTSTERJES. 

— 'CASTILLEJO,  OLIVA,  JUAN    DE    PARIS,    AND    OTHERS.    --POPULAR    DEMANDS 

FOR     DRAMATIC     LITERATURE. LOPE     DE     RUEDA. HIS     LIFE,     COMEDIAS, 

COLOQUIOS,  PASOS,  AND  DIALOGUES  IN  VERSK. HIS  CHARACTER  AS    FOUND- 
ER OF  THE  POPULAR  DRAMA  IN  SPAIN. JUAN  DE  TIMONEDA. 

The  theatre  in  Spain,  as  in  most  other  countries  of 
modern  Europe,  was  early  called  to  contend  with  for- 
midable difficulties.  Dramatic  representations  there, 
perhaps  more  than  elsewhere,  had  been  for  centuries  in 
the  hands  of  the  Church ;  and  the  Church  was  not  will- 
ing to  give  them  up,  especially  for  such  secular  and 
irreligious  purposes  as  we  have  seen  were  apparent  in 
the  plays  of  Naharro.  The  Inquisition,  therefore,  al- 
ready arrogating  to  itself  powers  not  granted  by  the 
state,  but  yielded  by  a  sort  of  general  consent,  inter- 
fered betimes.  After  the  publication  of  the  Seville 
edition  of  the  "  Propaladia/'  in  1520,  —  but  how  soon 
afterward  we  do  not  know,  —  the  representation  of  its 
dramas  was  forbidden,  and  the  interdict  was  continued 
till  1573.^  Of  the  few  pieces  written  in  the  early  part 
of  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  nearly  all,  except 
those  on  strictly  religious  subjects,  were  laid  under  the 
ban  of  the  Church ;  several,  like  the  "  Orfea,"  1534, 
and  the  "  Custodia,"  1541,  being  now  known  to  have 

1  In   the   edition   of  Madrid,    1573,  1573.     The  period  i.s  important ;  but  I 

ISmo,    we   are    told,    "La   Propaladia  .suspect  the  authority  of  Martinez  de  la 

estava  prohihida  en  estos  reynos,  ahos  Rosa,  for  its  termination  is  merely  the 

avia  "  ;  and  Martinez  de  la  Rosa  (0bra.s.  permission  to  print  an  edition,  which 

Paris,  1827,  12mo,  Tom.  II.  p.  382)  says  is  dated  21st   August,    1573;   an  edi- 

that  this  prohibition  was  laid  soon  after  tion,  too,  which  is,  after  all,  expurgated 

1520,    and   not   removed   till   August,  severely. 
VOL.    II.                           4 


50 


THE    TlIEATItE. 


[Pkuiud  II. 


existed  only  because  their  names  appear  in  the 

*  42    Index    Expurgatoiius ; ^    and  others,   *  like    the 

"Aniadis    de    Gauhi "    of   Gil    Vicente,    though 

printed   a-nd    i)ul)lished,  being  subsequently  forbidden 

to  be  represented.^ 

The  old  religious  drama,  meantime,  was  still  upheld 
hy  ecclesiastical  power.  Of  this  we  have  sufficient 
])roof  in  the  titles  of  the  Mysteries  that  were  from 
time  to  time  performed,  and  in  the  well-known  fact 
that,  when,  with  all  the  magnificence  of  the  court 
of  Charles  the  Fifth,  the  infant  heir  to  the  crown, 
afterwards  Philip  the  Second,  was  bajDtized  at  Yidlado- 
lid,  in  1-527,  five  religious  plajs,  one  of  which  was  on 
the  Baptism  of  Saint  John,  constituted  a  part  of  the 
gorgeous  ceremony.^  Such  compositions,  however,  did 
not  advance  the  drama,  though  perhaps  some  of  them, 
like  that  of  Pedro  de  Altamira,  on  the  Supper  at  Em- 
maus,  are  not  without  poetical  merit.''  On  the  con- 
trary, their  tendency  must  lia\e  been  to  keep  back 


2  Those  are  in  the  "  Catalogo  "  of  L. 
F.  Monitiii,  Nos.  57  and  63,  Obras, 
ibulrid,  1830,  8vo,  Tom.  I.  Parte  I. 

'^  Tlie  fate  of  this  long,  heroic,  and 
romantic  drama  of  Gil  Vicente,  in  Span- 
ish, is  somewhat  singular.  It  was  for- 
bidden by  the  liujuisition,  we  are  told, 
as  early  as  the  Index  Expiirgatorius  of 
1549  [1559?];  but  it  was  not  ])rinted 
at  all  till  1562,  and  not  separately 
till  1586.  By  the  Index  of  Lisbon, 
1624,  it  is  permitted,  if  ex])urgated,  and 
thei-e  is  an  edition  of  it  of  that  year  at 
Lisbon.  As  it  was  never  printed  in 
Sj)ain,  the  jn'ohibition  there  must  have 
related  chiefly  to  its  representation. 
Barbcsa,  Bib.  Lu.sitana,  Tom.  11. 
p.  384. 

*  The  account  of  this  ceremony,  and 
the  facts  concerning  the  dramas  in  ques- 
tion, are  given  by  Sandoval,  "Ilistoi'ia 
de  Carlos  V.,"  (.Viivers,  1681,  fol.,  Tom. 
I.  i».  619,  Lib.  XVI.  §  13,)  and  are  of 
some  con.sei|uence  in  the  liistory  of  the 
Spanish  drama. 


It  may  also  be  worth  notice  that 
when  Maximilian  II.,  of  Germanj^  was 
married  to  Marv.  eldest  daughter  of 
Charles  V.,  at"  Valladolid,  in  1548, 
Philij)  being  present  at  the  festivities, 
and  5laxiinilian  having  been  educateil 
in  Sjjain,  tlie  theatrical  entertainment 
thouglit  proper  for  the  occasion  was  yet 
one  of  the  comedies  of  Ariosto,  in  the 
original,  which,  we  are  told,  was  repre- 
.sentod  "con  todo  a(|uel  aparato  de  the- 
atro  y  scenas  que  los  Komanos  las  solian 
rejM'esentar,  que  fue  cosa  mny  real  y 
sumptuosa."  (( 'alvete  de  Estrejla,  Viage 
de  Phelipe,  Hijo  del  Emperador  Carlos 
v.,  ec.  Anveres,  folio,  1552,  f.  2,  b. ) 
Tiiere  can  be  no  doubt,  I  suppose,  that 
a  Spanish  play  would  liave  been  se- 
lecteil,  if  one  suitable  could  have  been 
found  for  so  biiliiant  a  Sjianish  audi- 
ence, collected  on  an  occasion  ajtjieal- 
ing  so  strongly  to  national  fe(dings. 

^  It  was  ])rinted  in  1523,  ami  a  suffi- 
cient extract  from  it  is  to  be  found  in 
Moratin,  '"atalogo,  No.  36. 


Chap.  VI  F.] 


VAKIOUS    I)RA]N[AS. 


51 


theatrical    representations  within    their    old    religious 
purposes  and  limits.-' 

*  Nor  were  the  efforts  made  to  advance  them  in  *  43 
other  directions  marked  l)y  good  judgment  or 
permanent  success.  We  pass  over  the  "  Costanza  "  1)V 
Castillejo,  which  seems  to  have  heen  in  the  manner  of 
Naharro,  and  is  assigned  to  the  year  l')22,'  Init  which, 
from  its  indecency,  was  never  jiublished  in  full,  and  is 
now  probably  lost ;  and  we  pass  over  the  free  versions 
made  about  1530,  by  Perez  de  Oliva,  Rector  of  the 
University  of  Salamanca,  from  the  ''  Amphitryon  "  of 


•"  A  specimen  of  the  Mysteries  of  the 
age  of  Charles  V.  may  be  found  in  an 
extremely  lare  volume,  without  date, 
entitled,  in  its  three  parts,  "  Triaca  del 
Alma,"  "Triaca  de  Amor,"  and  "Tri- 
aca de  Tristes  "  ;  —  or.  Medley  for  the 
Soul,  for  Love,  and  for  Sadness.  Its 
author  was  Marcelo  de  Lebrixa,  son  of 
the  famous  scholar  Antonio  ;  and  the 
dedication  and  conclusion  of  the  first 
part  imply  that  it  was  composed  when 
the  author  was  forty  years  old,  —  after 
the  death  of  his  father,  which  happened 
in  1522,  and  during  the  reign  of  the 
Emperor,  which  ended  in  1556.  The 
first  part,  to  which  I  particularly  al- 
lude, consists  of  a  "Mj'stery"  on  the 
Incarnation,  in  above  eight  thousand 
short  verses.  It  has  no  other  action 
than  such  as  consists  in  the  a])pearance 
of  the  angel  Gabriel  to  the  Madonna, 
bringing  Reason  with  him  in  the  shape 
of  a  woman,  and  followed  by  another 
angel,  who  leads  in  the  Seven  Virtues  ; 
—  the  whole  piece  being  made  up  out 
of  their  successive  discourses  and  ex- 
hortations, and  ending  M'itli  a  sort  of 
summary,  by  Reason  and  by  the  Au- 
thor, in  favor  of  a  pious  life.  Certain- 
ly, so  slight  a  structure,  with  little 
merit  in  its  verses,  could  do  nothing 
to  advance  the  drama  of  the  sixteenth 
century.  It  was,  however,  intended 
for  representation.  "  It  was  written," 
says  its  author,  "for  the  praise  and 
solemnization  of  the  Festival  of  Our 
Lady's  Incarnation  ;  so  that  it  may  be 
acted  as  a  play  [la  puedan  por  fai(;a 
representar]  by  devout  nuns  in  their 
convents,  since  no  men  a]>pear  in  it, 
but  only  angels  and   young  damsels." 


It  should  be  noted  that  the  word  ^flJfi^ 
tcry,  as  here  used,  has  sometimes  been 
thought  to  indicate  its  origin  from  mi- 
nisterium,  because  it  was  jierformed  by 
the  ministers  of  tin?  church,  and  not 
because  it  set  forth  the  mysteries  of  re- 
ligion, according  to  its  accustomed  use 
in  France,  where  we  have  "  Le  Mistere 
de  la  Passion,"  etc. 

The  second  part  of  this  singular  vol- 
ume, which  is  moi'e  poetical  than  the 
first,  is  against  human  and  in  favor  of 
Divine  love  ;  and  the  third,  which  is 
very  long,  consists  of  a  series  of  conso- 
lations, deemed  suitable  for  the  differ- 
ent forms  of  human  sorrow  and  care  ; 
—  these  two  parts  being  necessarily  di- 
dactic in  their  character.  Each  of  the 
three  is  addressed  to  a  member  of  the 
great  family  of  Alva,  to  which  tlieir  au- 
thor was  attached  ;  and  the  whole  is 
called  by  him  Triaca ;  a  word  which 
means  Treacle,  or  Antidote,  but  which 
Lebrixa  says  he  uses  in  the  sense  of 
Ensalacld,  —  Salad,  or  Medlc\i.  The 
volume,  taken  as  a  whole,  is  as  strongly 
marked  with  the  spirit  of  the  age  that 
produced  it  as  the  contemporary  Cau- 
cionerosGenerales,  and  its  poetical  merit 
is  much  like  theirs. 

■^  Moratin,  Catiilogo,  No.  35,  MxAante, 
Vol.  I.  p.  463,  n.  6.  A  short  extract 
from  it  is  given  by  Moratin  ;  and  Wolf, 
in  his  tract  on  Castillejo,  (1849,  p.  10,) 
says  that  still  more  was  published  in 
1542,  under  the  pseudonyme  of  Fraj' 
Nidel ;  but  Gallai-do  gives  the  best  ac- 
count of  the  whole  in  a  letter  to  Ga- 
yangos,  to  be  found  in  the  Spanish 
translation  of  this  work,  Tom.  II- 
p.   500. 


52  JUAX    DE    PAKIS.  [PKKini)  II. 

Plaiitns,  the  "  Electra  "  of  Sophocles,  and  the  "  Hecuba  " 
of  Euripides^,  because  they  fell,  for  the  time,  powerless 
on  the  early  attempts  of  the  national  theatre,  which 
had  nothing  in  connnon  with  the  spirit  of  anti(iuity.^ 
But  a  single  play,  printed  in  1536,  should  be  noticed, 
as  showing  how  slowly  the  drama  made  progress  in 
Spain. 

It  is  called  '•  An  Eclogue,"  and  is  written  by  Juan  de 
Paris,  in  versos  do  arte  mayor,  or  long  verses  divided  into 
stanzas  of  eight  lines  each,  which  show,  in  their 
*  44  careful  *  construction,  not  a  little  labor  and  art.^ 
It  has  five  interlocutors  :  an  esquire,  a  hermit, 
a  young  damsel,  a  demon,  and  two  shepherds.  The 
hermit  enters  first.  He  seems  to  be  in  a  meadow, 
musing  on  the  vanity  of  human  life ;  and,  after  praying 
devoutly,  determines  to  go  and  visit  another  hermit 
But  he  is  prevented  by  the  esquire,  who  conies  in 
weeping  and  complaining  of  ill  treatment  from  Cupid, 
whose  cruel  character  he  illustrates  by  his  conduct  in 
the  cases  of  Medea,  the  flill  of  Troy,  Priam,  David,  and 
Hercules  ;  ending  with  his  own  determination  to  aban- 
don the  world  and  live  in  a  "nook  merely  monastical." 
He  accosts  the  hermit,  who  discourses  to  him  on  the 
follies  of  love,  and  advises  him  to  take  religion  and 
works  of  devotion  for  a  remedy  in  his  sorrows.  The 
young  man  determines  to  follow  counsel  so  wise,  and 
they  enter  the  hermitage  together.     But  they  are  no 

*  Oliva  (lied  in  1533  ;  but  his  trans-  posta  por  Juan  dc  Paris,  en  la  qual  se 

lations    wci'i'    not    printed    till    l."i8r».  iutrodiicen  ciueo  personas  :  un  Eseude- 

Those  from  Soi)hoeles,   Euripides,  and  ro  llainado  Estaeio,  y  un  Herinitano,  y 

Plautus  are  too  free.     Montiano  ])rais<s  una  Mo^a,  y  un  Diablo,  y  dos  I'astores, 

them  for  their  pure  style,  but  Moratin  uno  llaniado  Vicu'ute  y  el  otro  Creinon" 

reliukes  Oliva  for  his  adventurous  and  (ir)3lj).      It    is   in    hlack-letter,    small 

nnilrainatic  alterations.  (|uarto,    12    loaves,    without    name   of 

^  This  extremely  cunous  drama,  of  \Awa-  or  jiiinter  ;  but,  I  sup])ose,  print- 

which  a  cojiy  was  kindly  h'lit  to  me  Ity  ed  at  Zaragoza,  or  Medina  d(d  Campo. 

Mens.   H.  Tcrnaux-f'omjians,  of  Paris,  Wnlf  says  thi-re  is  a  cojjy  dated   1551 

is  entitled   "  Egloga  iiuevamente  com-  in  the  J\Iunirli  I.ilirary. 


CuAi'.  Yll.]  JUAN    DE    PAllIS.  53 

sooner  gone  than  the  demon  appears,  complaining  ]jit- 
terly  that  the  esquire  is  Ukely  to  escape  him,  and  detei- 
mining  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  prevent  it.  One  of 
the  shepherds,  whose  name  is  Vicente,  now  comes  in, 
and  is  much  shocked  by  the  glimpse  he  has  caught  of 
the  retiring  spirit,  who,  indeed,  from  his  description, 
and  from  the  woodcut  on  the  title-page,  seems  to  have 
been  a  truly  fantastic  and  hideous  personage.  Vicente, 
thereupon  hides  himself;  but  the  damsel,  who  is  the 
lady-love  of  the  esquire,  enters,  and,  after  drawing  him 
from  his  concealment,  holds  with  him  a  somewhat 
metaphysical  dialogue  about  love.  The  other  shep- 
herd, Cremon,  at  this  difficult  point  interrupts  the  dis- 
cussion, and  has  a  rude  quarrel  with  Vicente,  Avhich 
the  damsel  composes;  and  then  Cremon  tells  her  where 
the  hermit  and  the  lover  she  has  come  to  seek  are  to 
be  found.  All  now  go  towards  the  hermitage.  The 
esquire,  overjoyed,  receives  the  lady  with  open  arms 
and  cries  out,  — 

*  But  now  I  abjure  this  friardom  poor,  *  45 

And  will  neither  be  hermit  nor  friar  any  more.^'' 

The  hermit  marries  them,  and  determines  to  go  with 
them  to  their  house  in  the  town ;  and  then  the  whole 
ends  somewhat  strangely  with  a  villancico,  which  has 
for  its  burden,  — 

Let  us  fly,  I  say,  from  Love's  power  away  ; 

'T  is  a  vassalage  hard, 

Which  gives  grief  for  reward. ii 

The  piece  is  curious,  because  it  is  a  wild  mixture  of 
the  spirit  of  the  old  Mysteries  with  that  of  Juan  de  la 
Enzina's  Eclogues  and  the  Comedies  of  Naharro,  and 
shows  by  what  awkward  means  it  was   attempted  to 

10  Agora  renieso  ile  mala  fraylia,  H  Iluyamos  de  ser  vasallos 

Ni  quiero  hermitano  ni  fraylc  mas  ser.  Del  Amor, 

Pubs  por  preiiiio  da  dolor- 


54 


JAUilE    DE    HUETE. 


f Period  IL 


conciliate  the  Church,  and  yet  amuse  an  auuieiice 
which  had  little  s\^npathy  with  monks  and  hermits. 
But  it  has  no  poetrv'  in  it,  and  veiy  little  dramatic 
movement.  Of  its  manner  and  measure  the  opening 
stanza  is  quite  a  fair  specimen.  The  Hermit  enters, 
saving  to  himself,  — 

The  suifering  Kfe  we  mortal  men  below, 

Upon  this  terrene  world,  are  bound  to  spend, 

If  we  but  carefully  regard  its  end. 
We  find  it  very  fuU  of  grief  and  woe  : 
Torments  so  multiplied,  so  great,  and  ever  such. 

That  but  to  count  an  endless  reckoning  brings. 

While,  HTce  the  rose  that  from  the  rose-tree  springs. 
Our  life  itself  fades  quickly  at  their  touch.  ^ 

Other  attempts  followed  this,  or  appeared  at  just 
jibout  the  same  time,  which  approach  nearer 
*  46  to  the  example  *  set  by  Naharro.  One  of  them, 
called  "La  Vidriana,"  by  Jaume  de  Huete,  is 
on  the  loves  of  a  gentleman  and  lady  of  Aragon,  who 
desired  the  author  to  represent  them  dramatically;^ 
and  another,  by  the  same  hand,  is  call  "La  Tesorina," 
and   was    afterwards    forbidden    by    the    Inquisition." 


^  As  another  copy  of  this  play  can 
be  found,  I  suppose,  only  by  some  rare 
accident,  I  gi\      '         '-'     '    '' '' 
sage  in  the'te\' 

ing.     It   is   tL.     .; ,_ ...  : 

scene  :  — 


La  viiia    • 

En  iu\xn-- 

■; 

?i  mn  1   . 

Fall-vr  la 

-  maies 

De  tanti  - 

raJea 

Q,,..   .,-     . 

■     r'.mta 

V 

.i»sto  :  tan  presto  es  marchita 

(J. 

.1"  estft  en  los  ros&Ies. 

1  Manera  de  Tragedia," 

in  • 

•rlvps-itoral.  was  printed 

at  ' 

:  '  : '  ' 

an<: 

in   .^.-u,.    i:.-..: 

..-  iii.-iiii. ..■■■. 

in    Aribau, 

de    .\ntorea 

Espaioles," 

1-                      II.    p.    1&3, 

note. 

>*  "Comerlia  llama<la  Vidriana,  com- 
poesta  por  Jaume  de  Huete  agora  nue- 


varaente,"  etc.,  sm.  4to,  black-letter, 
eighteen  leaves,  without  year,  place,  or 

:    " -r.     It  has  ten  interlocutors,  a.nd 
\\ith  an  apology  in   Latin,   that 

; :.ithor  cannot  write  like  Mena,  — 

Juan  de  Mena,  I  suppose, — thou^fh  I 
know  not  whv  he  should  have  been 
-'-I  '^i^d,  as  the  piece  is  evidently  in 
:i.     laanner  of  Naharro. 

i*  Another  drama  from  tl. 
ume  with  the  la^'rt  two.  M. 
logo,  No.  47)  hail  found  i" 
the  Index  Expurgatorius  ot 
1.55&,  and  assigns  it,  at  a 
the  year  1531,  but  he  never  saw  it.  lu 
title  is  "CoTnedia  intitnlada  TwsoTina. 


jHjr  muy  cen(ira<ios  tcrinino«,  ijuanti)  a 
este  merece  perdon."  Small  -tto,  black- 
letter,  fifteen  leaves,  no  year,  place,  or 


<'iiAr.  \ii.|  oirriz.  or> 

Tliis  l;isl  is  ;i  direct  imiliilion  of  Xjiliiiiro;  li;is  ;iii 
inlroilo  :  is  dixidcd  '\\\\n  \\\r  ionitnhis  :  and  is  wiillcii  in 
short  \crscs.  Indeed,  al  tlie  end.  Naliaiio  is  nu'n- 
li(ine(|  l)\  nam*',  with  nineh  iinphed  athniration  on  the 
part  of  the  anthor,  who  in  the  t  it  h'-pau'e  annonnces 
liiniscdi"  as  an  Arau'onese.  hnt  ol"  whom  we  know 
nothinii;  (dse.  And.  linallv.  wc  have  ;i  i»la\  in  live 
ads.  and  in  the  same  si  \  h'.  with  an  lulroHo  al  llio 
heii'iniiiu^  and  a  rll/aiiclco  at  the  end.  hv  Aiioslin 
Orti/J "  h'a\  im:'  no  *  donht  that  the  manner  and  *I7 
sNstein  of  Naharro  had  at  hist  louiid  imitators  in 
Spam,  and   were  I'airlv   reeov^ni/ed   theic. 

Hill  the  popular  \ein  had  not^  v»'t  heen  struck.  V,\- 
eept  (hamatic  exhihitions  of  a  reliiiioiis  character,  and 
mi(h'i'  ecclesiastical  anthorily,  nothing  had  been  a<- 
teiiiple(l  in  wiiicli  ihe  peopio,  ui^  .sncli,  luid  any  .shar<'. 
The  attempt.  howcNcr,  was   now    made,  and    made   siio 


iniiiU'i.      It    liiis  Irii  iiili'rloriiloiN,  Mild  Iiik  kv'nimiil.     .'!,    A    .slmrl,    ilnli    iMivr, 

IS  lliinii^^hiiiil  nil  iiiiilMtiiiii  of  XiiliHiio,  ciilit.h'il  ".IjifiiitM,"       ii<t(,   (Ik-  .Ifivinlji 

will)  is  iiiiiitiiPiii'(l  ill  soini'  iiii'iin  l.ntiii  of  Nfiiiarro,     'i'lirsc  tlircc,  Iojj^cIIiit  willi 

lines  III    llic  fiiil,  wlicrc  llii' miiIIkii' I'X-  tlu' lour  ]nvvioUHly  iioiici'il,  nn'  liimwii 

ini'sscs  the  liopc  I  lull,  liis  iMiisc  nmv  !»•'  to   iiio  only  in    tlio  i;o|)y   I    linvi'   ii.nimI 

IoIi'ijiIimI,    "(|niiinvis  non  ToiTiM  iligiia  from  tin-  liliiiiry  of  Moiih.  11,  Tfrnnnx- 

Niiliiino  vi'iiii."  ('oiiii)Uiis. 

"'     "  ( 'onifiliii,     inlilnlMilit     l{;i(Iiii:i.'i,  A  liHt  of  .sumlry  nnli' ilnmiiilii' \voi1<k 

rniii|iiii'.s|ii    |ior    A^o.stiii   Ortiz,"   sinull  in  llic  fonns  foinnion   in  Simiii  in  llu- 

■Ito,  liliick-lc'lti'i'.  Iwclvi' IcMvcs,  noyciir,  lime  of  ( 'ImrlcH  V.  iMjiivm  in  llir  Simn- 

|ii:ii  I,  iir  |.iiiilci.      II  is  ill  livi',/"'"'/f«/'W,  ish   trniisliaioii   of  thiH   UisUn'V,  ('loin, 

mill    li:i .    Irii    |iiTsoiiii^('s,       ii   fiivoriti'  II.    |i|i.    n'iO-ft.'lK,)  lis  !in    inlililion   j<» 

niiniln'r.    ii|Piiiiiviilly.       It    i'<iini's   IVmii  IIh'  well  Known  Ciitiiloj/in'  of  Monitiii. 

(lie  voiiiiiii'iiiiovi'iiiluilisj  lo.  wliirh  cun  Anion;/  ilii'iii  Mil-  III.'  lilli's  of  Anlosiiml 

tiiins  liivsiili's  :    1.    A    poor   |ii'osc  .sNny,  oIIkt  ilriiniiis   hy  lln-   Mlningc  lunl   i',\- 

iiil.i-,|M  TsiMJ  wiili  <liiilo;<iii',  on   llii'  lull'  Irjivagiiiit  'rniiiMi  ticl  I'Vf'Ji'iiiil  m'  Imi-M'- 

of  Minliii,  Ink. '11  .liii'lly  fnnii  Ovi.l,      It  mil,  (s.'c  post,  rlui|i.  XXIX.,  noli',)  nil 

is  .  jiil.'.l  "  I.II  '/'(wi/ff//"  lie  Miirliii,"  iin.l  lost   nii.l  not,  wmtli  r )ViMinf< ;  Iw.i  or 

ils  iuilli.ir  is  til.' Miicliill.T  Villitlon.      II  tlir<'<'   iniilnlions    of    l''.iiziiiii,    Nnliiirro, 

WHS  iiriiil.'.l  lit  Mciliiiii  ili^  Ciiiniio,  iri:{(i,  iiml  tin'  Ci'li'Mtiiiit  ;  nnil  tin'  .s«'<'oinl  .'ili- 

|...r  I'.'.li.i  Toniiis,  snnill  11. >,  lilijuk-lcl-  ti.ni,  155-2,  of  a  very  simiii.'  Co lin. 

i.T.     '1.   All   <'<loj,rii.'   .soiiK'wIiiil    ill   til"'  .'iill.'.l    "  I'lvloo  y  'rilwil'lo.'"  I'i'jjun  liy 

niMniK'r  iif   .liiiiii    .Ir    In     Kn/inn.    lorn  r.'inlvni.'/,  ilf  Ayll.ni,  nn.l  linisln'il  iiflor 

\'<irin:i,',iln.      Il    is  .'nll.'.l  II    /''//•;/»,  liin  il.'iitli  liy  l.nis  lliirlmlo.  wlio  w!ol« 

"  Kl    l''Miv.n    HiKiii<'iit<'   iii/o   I'.'i'o   l.op.'z  PnlnnMin    ol'    Knuliiinl,       Of    lliis    hml 

IJnn.j.'l,"  el.'.      M    in  Hliorl,    liiiiii^  only  Onyiingim   «ivi'M  .'onsi.l.'inlil.'  .■\lin.lN 

I    11.    mill    .'onlniiiH    tlin'i-    /•///am;/mi.  Iiiit   nil  of  tli.'in  nd.l   nolliiiiK  ninli'iiiil 

On   ijir    till.' |iii><.'  \h  n  coiirNi'  wooilcnt,  lo  oiir  kiiowl<>(l^.' of  IIk'  llicnln' of  tint 

..I    lli.'   iiimi'MT.  with  It.'llil.'li.'in    in  111.'  liiii.'. 


■56  LOl'K    DK    JtUKDA.  [Pkui.dII. 

cessfully.  Its  author  was  a  mechanic  of  Seville,  Lope 
de  lluedn,  a  goldbeater  ])y  trade,  Avho,  from  motives 
now  entirely  unknown,  became  both  a  dramatic  writer 
and  a  ])iibnc  actor.  The  })erio(l  in  Avliich  lie  tiourished 
has  l)een  supposed  to  be  between  1544  and  loOT. 
in  which  last  year  he  is  spoken  of  as  dead  ;  and  the 
scene  of  his  adventures  is  believed  to  have  extended 
to  Seville,  Cordova,  Valencia,  Segovia,  and  probably 
other  places,  where  his  plays  and  farces  could  be  rep- 
resented with  profit.  At  Segovia,  we  know  he  acted 
in  the  new  cathedral,  during  the  week  of  its  consecra- 
tion, in  1558;  and  Cervantes  and  the  unhappy  Antonio 
Perez  both  speak  with  admiration  of  his  powers  as  an 
actor,  —  the  first  having  been  twenty  years  old  in 
1567,  the  period  commonly  assumed  as  that  of  Rueda's 
death,^*^  and  the  last  having  been  eighteen.  Rueda's 
success,  therefore,  even  during  his  lifetime,  seems  to 
have  been  remarkable ;  and  when  he  died,  though 
he  belonged  to  the  despised  and  rejected  profession 
of  the  stage,  he  was  interred  with  honor  among  the 
mazy  pillars   in   the   nave   of  the  great  cathedral  at 

Cordova.^' 
*  48        *  His  works  were  collected  after  his  death  bv 


-  1*'  It  is  known  that  lie  was  certainly  Oayaiiiros  saA's  that   Tinioiieda  alludes 

dead  as  early  as  that  year,  because  the  to  the  death  of  Lope  de  Ixueda,  in  ]5t)ti. 

edition  of  his   "Oouiedias"  then   puh-  I   sujiijosc  he  refers,  in  this  remark,  to 

lished  at  Valencia,  by  his  friend  Tinio-  the  "  Kpistola"  preiixed  to  the  edition 

iieda,  contains,  at  the  end  of  the  "  Kn-  of  the    Eufeinia    and   Armelina   dated 

ganos,"  a  sonnet  on  his  death  by  Fian-  15(57,  but  with  the  Censura  of  October, 

cisco    de    Ledesnia.       The    last,    and,  1566. 

indeed,  almost  the  only  date  we  have  i"    The    well-known    passage    about 

iil)Out  him,  is  that  of  his  acting  in  the  Lo])e  de  Rue(la,  in  Cervantes's  Prologo 

•cathedral  at  Segovia  in  1558  ;  of  which  to  his  own  plays,  (see  post,  j).  55,)  is  of 

"we  liave  a  distinct  account  in  the  learneil  more  consequeiice  than  all  the  rest  that 

and  elaborate   History  of  Segovia,    by  remains  concerning  him.     Everything, 

Diego  de  Colmenares,   (Segovia,   1627,  however,    is    collected    in    Navarrete, 

fol.,  p.  516,)  where  he  says  that,  on  a  "  Vida  de  Cervantes,"  pp.   255-260  ; 

stage  erected  between  tin;  (dioirs,  "Lope  and  in  Casiano  Pelli(;er,  "  Origen  de  la 

de  Rueda,  a  well-known  actor  [fainoso  Comedia  y  del  Histrionismo  en  Kspaha" 

comediante]  of  that  age  rejintsented  an  (Madriil,    1804,    r2mo,    Tom.    II.    pp. 

entertaining   play  [gusto.sa  comedia]."  72-84). 


KT 


Cum:    VII.]  LOPE    DE    KUEDA.  0/ 

his  friend  Juan  de  Tinioncda,  and  published  in  difTfer- 
ent  editions,  between  lOiiT  and  1588.'**  They  consist 
of  foiu'  Coniedias,  two  Pastoral  Colloquies,  and  ten 
Pasos,  or  dialogues,  all  in  prose;  besides  two  dia- 
logues in  verse.  They  were  all  evidently  written  for 
representation,  and  were  unquestionably  acted  before 
public  audiences,  by  the  strolling  company  Lope  de 
Rueda  led  about. 

The  four  Coniedias  are  merely  divided  into  scenes, 
,'ind  extend  to  the  length  of  a  common  farce,  whose 
spirit  they  generally  share.  The  first  of  them,  "  Los 
Engafios,"  ^^  —  Frauds,  —  contains  the  story  of  a  daugh- 
ter of  Verginio,  who  has  escaped  from  the  convent 
where  she  was  to  be  educated,  and  is  serving  as  a  page 
to  Marcelo,  who  had  once  Ijcen  her  lover,  and  who  had 
left  her  because  he  believed  himself  to  have  been  ill 
treated.  ClaveLa,  the  lady  to  whom  Marcelo  now 
devotes  himself,  falls  in  love  with  the  fair  page,  some- 
what as  Olivia  does  in  "  Twelfth  Night,"  and  this 
brings  in  several  effective  scenes  and  situations.  But 
a  twin  brother  of  the  lady-page  returns  home,  after  a 
considerable  absence,  so  like  her,  that  he  proves  the 
other  Sosia,  who,  first  producing  great  confusion  and 
trouble,  at  last  m.nTies  Clavela,  and  leaves  his  sister  to 
her  original  lover.  This  is  at  least  a  plot;  and  some 
of  its  details  and  portions  of  the  dialogue  are  ingenious, 
and  managed  with  dramatic  skill. 

.  1^  "  Las  Quatro  Comedias  y  Dos  Colo-  nmeli  couscqiu'iR-c.  Of  the  "  Deley- 
quios  Pastorales  del  exceleute  poeta  y  toso,"  j)rinted  at  Valencia,  1567,  I 
graciosorepresentante,  Lope  de  Rueda,"  have  never  be(!n  abh;  to  see  more  than 
etc.,  iinpresas  en  Sevilla,  L576,  8vo, —  the  veiy  ample  extracts  given  by  Mora- 
contains  his  principal  works,  with  the  tin,  aiiioiinting  to  six  Pasos  and  a  C'olo- 
"  Dialogo  sobre  la  Invencion  de  las  quio.  The  first  edition  of  the  Quatro 
Calzas  que  se  iisan  agora."  From  the  Comedia.s,  etc.,  wiis  ].')67,  at  Valencia; 
Epistola  prefixed  to  it  by  Juan  de  Timo-  the  last  at  Logrono,  1 588. 
neda,  1  infer  that  he  made  alterations  ^^  In  the  edition  of  Valencia  by  Joan 
in  the  maiiuscri]>ts,  as  Lo])e  de  Rueda  Mey,  8vo,  L567,  this  play  is  entitled 
left  them;    but  not,   probiilily,   any  of  "Los  Enganados,"— <Ae  cAwffcrf. 


58  LOPE    DV.    UUEDA.  [Period  II. 

The  next,  the  "Medora,"  is,  also,  not  withont  a  i-ense 
of  what  belongs  to  theatrical  composition  and  efiect. 
The  interest  of  the  action  depends,  in  a  considerable 
degree,  on  the  confusion  produced  by  the  lesem- 
blance  between  a  young  woman  stolen  when  a 
*  49  child  by  *  Gypsies,  and  the  heroine,  Avho  is  her 
twin  sister.  But  there  are  well-drawn  charac- 
ters in  it,  that  stand  out  in  excellent  relief,  especially 
two  :  Gargullo,  —  the  "  miles  gloriosus,"  or  Captain 
Bobadil,  of  the  story,  —  who.  by  an  admirable  touch 
of  nature,  is  made  to  boast  of  his  courage  when  quite 
alone,  as  well  as  when  he  is  in  company ;  and  a  Gypsy 
woman,  who  overreaches  and  robs  him  at  the  veiy 
moment  he  intends  to  overreach  and  I'ol)  lier.-*^ 

The  story  of  the  "  Eufemia  "  is  not  unlike  that  of  the 
slandered  Imo2:en,  and  the  character  of  Melchior  Oi'tiz 
is  almost  exactly  that  of  the  fool  in  the  old  English 
drama,  —  a  well-sustained  and  amusing  mixture  of 
simplicity  and  shrewdness. 

The  "  Armelina,"  which  is  the  fourth  and  last  of  the 
longer  pieces  of  Lope  de  Rueda,  is  more  bold  in  its 
dramatic  incidents  than  either  of  the  others.-^  The 
heroine,  a  foundling  from  Hungary,  after  a  series  of 
strange  incidents,  is  left  in  a  Spanish  village,  where  she 
is  kindly  and  even  delicately  brought  up  by  the  villnge 
blacksmith  ;  v/hile  her  father,  to  supply  her  place,  has 
no  less  kindly  In-ought  u])  in  Hungary  a  natural  son  of 
this  same  blacksmith,  who  had  been  carried  there  by 
his  unwoithy  mother.  The  father  of  the  lady,  having 
some  intimation  of  where  his  daughter  is  to  be  found, 

^  This  is  the  Rvfwn  of  the  old  Span-  -i  It  may  be  wortli  noticing,  tliat  both 
ish  dramas  and  stoiics, — pa?'cel  roj^Y/y,  the  "Armelina"  anil  the  "  Kufemia  " 
parcel  bull}',  and  wholly  knave  ;  —  a  open  with  scenes  of  calling  up  a  lazy 
different  personage  from  t\w  Rufiaii  oi  young  man  from  bed,  in  the  early  morn- 
recent  times,  who  is  tli(;  (dder  AlaUiuete  ing,  nnu'h  like  the  first  in  the  "Xubes" 
or  pander.  of  Aristophanes. 


Chap.   VI  i.]  LOPE    DE    KUEDA.  59 

comes  to  tlie  Spanish  village,  bringing  his  adopte(l 
son  witli  him.  There  lie  advises  with  a  Moorish 
necromancer  how  he  is  to  proceed  in  oi'der  to  regain 
his  lost  child.  The  Moor,  by  a  fearfnl  incantation, 
invokes  Medea,  who  actually  appears  on  the  stage, 
fresh  from  the  infernal  regions,  and  informs  him  that 
his  danghter  is  living  in  the  A^ery  village  where  they 
all  are.  Meanwhile  the  daughter  has  seen  the  youth 
from  Hungary,  and  they  are  at  once  in  love  with 
each  other ;  —  the  blacksmith,  at  the  same  time, 
having  decided,  with  the  aid  of  his  wife,  to  compel  her 
to  marry  a  shoemaker,  to  whom  he  had  before 
promised  her.  Here,  of  course,  *  come  troul^les  *  50 
and  confusion.  The  young  lady  undertakes  to 
cut  them  short,  at  once,  by  simply  drowning  herself, 
but  is  prevented  by  Neptune,  who  quietly  carries  her 
down  to  his  abodes  under  the  roots  of  the  ocean,  and 
brings  her  back  at  the  right  moment  to  solve  all 
the  difficulties,  explain  the  relationships,  and  end  the 
whole  with  a  wedding  and  a  dance.  This  is,  no  doubt, 
very  wild  and  extravagant,  especially  in  the  part  con- 
taining the  incantation  and  in  the  part  played  by 
Neptune ;  but,  after  all,  the  dialogue  is  pleasant  and 
easy,  and  the  style  natural  and  spirited. 

The  two  Pastoral  Colloquies  differ  from  the  four 
Comedias,  partly  in  having  even  less  carefully  con- 
structed plots,  and  partly  in  affecting,  through  their 
more  bucolic  portions,  a  stately  and  pedantic  air,  which 
is  anything  but  agreeable.  They  belong,  however, 
substantially  to  the  same  class  of  dramas,  and  received 
a  different  name,  perhaps,  only  from  the  circumstance 
that  a  pastoral  tone  was  always  popular  in  Spanish 
poetry,  and  that,  from  the  time  of  Enzina,  it  had  been 
considered  peculiarly  fitted  for  public  exhibition.    The 


60  LOPE    DE    RUEDA.  [Period  II. 

comic  parts  of  the  Colloquies  are  the  only  portions  of 
them  that  have  merit ;  and  the  following  passage  from 
that  of  "  Timbria  "  is  as  characteristic  of  Lope  de 
Rueda's  light  and  natural  manner  as  anything,  per- 
haps, that  can  be  selected  from  what  we  have  of  his 
dramas.  It  is  a  discussion  between  Leno,  the  shrewd 
fool  of  the  piece,  and  Troico,^  in  which  Leno  in- 
geniously contrives  to  get  rid  of  all  blame  for  having 
eaten  up  a  nice  cake  which  Timbria,  the  lady  in  love 
with  Troico,  had  sent  to  him  by  the  faithless  glutton. 

Leixx).  Ah,  Troico,  are  you  there  ? 

Troico.  Yes,  my  good  fellow,  don't  you  see  I  am  ? 

Leno.  It  would  be  better  if  I  did  not  see  it. 

Troico.  Why  .so,  Leno  ? 

Lcno.  Why,  then  you  would  not  know  a  piece  of  ill-luck  that  has  just 
happened. 

Troico.  What  ill-luck  ? 

Lcno.  What  day  is  it  to-day  ? 
Troico.  Thursday. 
*  51     *  Lcno.  Thursday  ?     How  soon  will  Tuesday  come,  then  ? 
Troico.  Tuesday  is  passed  two  days  ago. 

Lc'iio.  Well,  that 's  something  ;  —  but  tell  me,  are  there  not  other  days  of  ill- 
luck  as  well  as  Tuesdays  ?  ^ 

Troico.  What  do  you  ask  that  for  ? 

Lciu).  I  ask,  because  there  may  be  unlucky  pancakes,  if  these  are  unlucky 
Thursdays. 

Troico.   I  suppose  so. 

Ltno.  Now,  stop  there ;  —  suppose  one  of  yours  had  been  eaten  of  a  Thurs- 
day ;  on  whom  would  the  ill-luck  have  fallen  ?  —  on  the  pancake,  or  on  you  ? 

Troico.  No  doubt,  on  me. 

Lc'M.  Then,  my  good  Troico,  comfort  yourself,  and  begin  to  suffer  and  be  pa- 
tient ;  for  men,  as  the  saying  i.s,  are  born  to  misfortunes,  and  these  are  matters, 
in  fine,  that  come  from  God  ;  and  in  the  order  of  time  you  must  die  yourself, 
and,  as  the  saying  is,  your  last  hour  will  then  be  come  and  arrived.  Take  it, 
then,  patiently,  and  remember  that  we  are  here  to-morrow  and  gone  to-day. 

Troico.  For  heaven's  sake,  Leno,  is  anybody  in  tlie  family  dead  ?  Or  else  why 
do  you  console  me  so  ? 

Lew).  Would  to  heaven  that  were  all,  Troico  ! 


^  Troico,  it  should  be  obsers'ed,  is  a  E.«t»  cscrito, 

woman  in  di.sguisc;.  ^'  ^''"•'o«  e..  dia  aciago. 

28  This  superstition  about  Tuesday  as  „^^P«  'l«  >•'*;''.'•''  f'"<^''|'"  ,"^"  ™  SS**'  \'';? 

1      1      'i        ■  .         I-  i    •  11.   (  omediaa,    Madnd,    1615,    4to,    Tom.  VL 

an  unlucky  day  is  not  unirequeut   in  \  Y\:i,  a.  --"^""i     «  "■  ^    ■ 

the  old  Spanish  drama  :  — 


Cii.vi'.  YIL]  LOPE    DE    IIUEDA.  Gl 

Troico.  Then  wliat  is  it  ?  Can't  you  tell  me  witliout  so  many  circumlocutions  ? 
What  is  all  this  preamble  about  ? 

'Lcno.  When  my  poor  mother  died,  he  that  brought  me  the  news,  before  he 
told  me  of  it,  diagged  me  round  through  more  turn-abouts  than  there  are  wind- 
ings in  the  Pisueiga  and  Zapardiel.-* 

Troico.  But  I  have  got  no  mother,  and  never  knew  one.  I  don't  comprehend 
what  you  mean. 

Leno.  Then  smell  of  this  napkin. 

Troico.   Very  well,  1  have  smelt  of  it. 

Leno.  What  does  it  smell  of  ? 

Troico.  Something  like  butter. 

Leno.  Then  you  may  truly  say,  "  Here  Troy  was." 

Troico.   What  do  you  mean,  Leno  ? 

Leno.  For  you  it  was  given  to  me  ;  for  yon  Madam  Timbria  sent  it,  all  stuck 
over  with  nuts  ; — but,  as  I  have  (and  Heaven  and  everybody  else  knows  it)  a 
sort  of  natural  relationshii)  for  whatever  is  good,  my  eyes  watched  and  followed 
her  just  as  a  hawk  follows  chickens. 

Troico.  Followed  whom,  villain  ?     Timbria  ? 

Leno.  Heaven  forbid  !  But  how  nicely  she  sent  it,  all  made  up  with  butter 
and  sugar  1 

Troico.  And  what  was  that  ? 

*  Leno.  The  pancake,  to  be  sure,  —  don't  you  understand  ?  *  52 

Troico.  And  who  sent  a  pancake  to  me  ? 

Leno.   Why,  Madam  Timbria. 

Troico.  Then  what  became  of  it  ? 

Leno.   It  was  consumed. 

Troico.  How  ?  • 

Leno.  By  looking  at  it. 

Troico.   Who  looked  at  it  ? 

Leno.    I,  by  ill-luck. 

Troico.   In  what  fashion  ? 

Leno.  Why,  I  sat  down  by  the  wayside. 

Troico.  Well,  what  next  ? 

Leiw.   I  took  it  in  my  hand. 

Troico.  And  then  ? 

Leno.  Then  I  tried  how  it  ta.sted  ;  and  what  between  taking  and  leaving  all 
around  the  edges  of  it,  when  I  tried  to  think  what  had  become  of  it,  I  found  1 
had  no  sort  of  recollection. 

Troico.  The  upshot  is  that  you  ate  it  ? 

Leno.  It  is  not  impossible. 

Troico.  In  faith,  you  are  a  trusty  fellow  ! 

Leno.  Indeed  !  do  you  think  so  ?  Hereafter,  if  I  bring  two,  I  will  eat  tliem 
both,  and  so  be  better  yet. 

Troico.  The  business  goes  on  well. 

Leno.  And  well  advised,  and  at  small  cost,  and  to  my  content.  But  now,  go 
to ;  suppose  we  have  a  little  jest  with  Timbria. 

Troico.  Of  what  sort  ? 

2*  Rivers  in  the  north  of  Spain,  often  mentioned  in  Sjiniiisli  poetry,  especially 
the  first  of  them. 


62 


LOPE    DE    KUEDA. 


[Pkkiod  II. 


Leno.  Suppose  j'ou  make  her  believe  you  ate  the  pancake  j^ourself,  and  when 
she  thinks  it  is  true,  3-ou  and  I  can  laugh  at  the  trick  till  you  sjilit  your  sides. 
Can  you  ask  for  anything  better  '\ 

Trolco.   You  counsel  well. 

Leno.  "Well,  Heaven  bless  the  men  that  listen  to  reason  !  I'ut  till  me,  Troico, 
do  you  think  you  can  carry  out  the  jest  with  a  grave  face  ? 

Troico.   I  ?  "What  have  I  to  laugh  about  ? 

LcH').  Wliy,  don't  you  think  it  is  a  laughing  matter  to  make  her  believe  you 
ate  it,  when  all  the  time  it  was  your  own  good  Leno  that  did  it  ? 

Troico.  Wisely  said.  But  now  liold  your  tongue,  and  go  about  your  busi- 
ness. 


*  The  ten  Pasos  are  miicli  like  this  dialogue, 
—  shoi't  and  lively,  without  plot  or  results,  and 


25  Len.  Ah,  Troico  I  estisaca? 

Tro.  iSi,  lierniano:  tu  no  loves? 

Lm.  ilus  valiera  que  no. 

Tro.  Porqiie,  I.eno? 

Len.  Porquc  no  sujiicra.-;  una  flc.-'gracia,  que 
ha  succdido  harto  poco  ha. 

Tro.  Y  que  ha  Siiilo  la  de.<f;i'acia  ? 

Len.  Que  e.s  hoy  ? 

Tro.  .Juevc!. 

Len.  Jueves?  Quanto  Ic  falta  pani  .scr  Mav- 
tes? 

Tro.  Antes  le  .=ohi-an  dos  dia.s. 

Len.  Mucho  es  eso  1  Mas  dime,  suele  liaber 
dias  aziagos  asi  coino  los  Marte.s  ? 

Tro.  Porque  lo  dices  ? 

Len.  Pregunto,  ponjue  tanibien  hahri  hojal- 
dres  desprraciadas,  pues  bay  JueVes  de.-sgraciados. 

Tro.  Creo  que  si !  ^ 

Len.  Y  ven  aci :  si  tc  la  hubiesen  coniido  a  ti 
una  en  Jueves,  en  quien  habria  caido  la  desgra- 
cia,  en  la  hojaldre  6  en  ti  ? 

Tro.  No  hay  duda  sino  que  en  mi. 

Len.  Pues,  herniano  Troico,  acondrtaos,  y 
oonienziid  4  sufrir,  y  scr  paciente,  que  i)or  los 
hombres  (romo  dicen)  suelen  venir  las  d((Sgra- 
cias,  y  estas  son  cosas  de  Dios  en  fin,  y  tanibien 
segun  orden  de  los  dins  os  jwdriades  vos  liiorir, 
y  (como  dicen)  ya  .seria  recomplid.i  y  alle-rada 
la  hora  postrimora,  rescebildo  con  jjaciencia,  y 
acordaos  que  manana  somos  y  hoy  no. 

Tro.  Valaine  Dios,  licnol  Es  inucrto  alguno 
en  casa?    0  como  me  consuelas  ausi  ? 

Len.  Ojal  i ,  Troico  I 

Tro.  Pues  que  fu^  ?  No  lo  dir'.s  sin  t.antos 
circunloquins  ?     Para  que  es  tanto  pre'.mbulo? 

Len.  Quando  mi  madre  muri  •,  para  decir- 
melo  el  que  nic  Uevi  la  nueva  me  traj  p  mas  ro- 
deos rjue  tiene  bueltas  I'isuerfra  6  Zapardiel 

Tro.  Pues  yo  no  tengo  madre,  ni  la  couosci, 
nj  te  entiendo. 

Len.  Huele  ese  pauizuelo. 

Trn.  Y  bien  ?     Ya  esti  olido. 

Len.  A  que  huele  ? 

Tro.  A  cosa  de  manteca. 

Len.  Pues  bien  jjucdes  decir,  aqui  fue  Troya. 

Tro.  Como,  Ijcno? 

Len.  Para  ti  me  la  habian  dado,  para  ti  la 
embiaba  retjcstida  de  pifiones  la  Senora  Tim- 
bria ;  pero  como  yo  soy  (y  lo  sabe  Dios  y  todo  el 
mundo)  allegailo  A  lo  bueno,  en  vi(''ndola  asi,  se 
me  vinicron  los  ojos  tras  ella  como  milano  tras 
de  poUeni. 

Tro.  Tras  quien,  traidor?  tras  Timbria? 

Len.  Que  no,  v.dame  Dios  I  Que  cnipapada 
la  embial)a  de  manteca  y  azucar  1 

Tro.  La,que? 


Len.  La  hojaldre:  no  lo  entiendes? 

Tro.  Y  quien  nie  la  embiaba  ? 

Len.  I>ii  8eriora  Timliria. 

Tro.  Pues  que  la  heeiste? 

Lfn.  Consurci  .se. 

Tni.  Dc  qvie? 

LiH.  De  DJo. 

Tro.  Quicii  la  ojeo? 

Len.  Yomalpuutol 

Tro.  Dc  qvie  uianera? 

Len.  Asentenie  en  el  camino. 

Tro.  Y  fiue  mas  .' 

Lett.  'J'omela  en  la  m.mo. 

Trii.   Y  luego  .' 

Li^n.  Prove  a  que  sabia,  y  como  por  una 
Tanda  y  por  otra  estaba  de  dar  y  tomar,  quaudo 
por  ella  acorde,  ya  no  habia  memoria. 

Tro.  "En  fin,  te  ]a  comiste  ? 

Len.  Podria  sfc-. 

Tro,  Por  cierto,  que  eres  honibre  de  buen 
recado. 

Len.  A  fc?  que  te  parezco  ?  De  aqui  ade- 
lante  si  tnigere  dos,  me  las  comere  juntas,  para 
hacello  m<'jor. 

Tro.  liueno  va  el  negocio. 

lA-n.  Y  bien  regido,  y  con  pnca  costa,  y  a  mi 
contento.  !Mas  ven  aci,  si  quies  que  riauios  un 
rato  con  Timbria  ? 

Tro    De  que  su(!7te  ? 

Len.  Puedes  le  hacer  en  creyente,que  la  co- 
miste tu,  y  como  ella  jjiense  que  es  verdad,  po- 
dremos  de.«pues  tu  y  yo  reir  aca  de  la  burla ; 
(jiie  robentar'.s  riyendol     Que  mas  quies? 

Tro.  lUen  me  aconsejas. 

Len.  Agora  V)ien  :  Dios  bcndiga  los  hombres 
acogidos  a  razon  !  Pi-ro  dime,  Troico,  sabrJs 
disimular  con  ella  sin  rcirte? 

Tro.  Yo  ?  de  ([ue  me  habia  de  reir  ? 

Len.  No  te  paresee,  que  es  manera  de  reir, 
hacelle  en  creyentc,  que  tu  te  la  comiste,  ha- 
bit'-ndosela  comido  tu  amigo  I^eno  ? 

Tro  Dices  sabianiente;  mas  calla,  vete  en 
buen  hora. 

(r.as  Quatro  Oomedias,  etc. ,  de  Lope  de  Rueda, 
Sevilla,  1676,  8vo.) 

The  learned  allusion  to  Troy  by  a 
man  as  humble  as  Leno  might  seem  in- 
apiiro])iiatc  ;  but  it  is  a  plirase  that  was 
in  jiopular  use.  Don  Quixote  eni])loyed 
it,  when,  leaving  Barcelona,  he  looked 
back  uj)on  tliat  city  as  tlie  .scene  of  his 
final  discomfiture  and  disgrace.  It  oc- 
cui-s  often  in  the  old  dramatists. 


CHA1-.   VII.]  LOPE    DE    KUEDA.  60 

merely  intended  to  amuse  an  idle  audience  for  a  few 
moments.  Two  of  them  are  on  glutton  tricks,  like 
that  practised  by  Leno  ;  others  are  between  thieves 
and  cowards;  and  all  are  drawn  from  common  life, 
and  written  with  spirit.  It  is  very  possible  that  some 
of  them  were  taken  out  of  larger  and  more  foi-mal 
dramatic  compositions,  which  it  was  not  thought 
worth  while  to  print  entire.^^ 

The  two  dialogues  in  verse  are  curious,  as  the  only 
specimens  of  Lojje  de  Rueda's  poetry  that  are  now  ex- 
tant, except  some  songs,  and  a  fragment  preserved  by 
Cervantes.""  One  is  called  "  Proofs  of  Love," 
and  is  a  sort  *  of  pastoral  discussion  between  *  54 
two  shepherds,  on  the  question  which  was  most 
favored,  the  one  who  had  received  a  finger-ring  as  a 
present,  or  the  one  who  had  received  an  ear-ring.  It 
is  written  in  easy  and  flowing  qidnUWm^  and  is  not 
longer  than  one  of  the  slight  dialogues  in  prose.  The 
other  is  called  "  A  Dialogue  on  the  Breeches  now  in 
Fashion,"  and  is  in  the  same  easy  measure,  but  has 
more  of  its  author's  peculiar  spirit  and  manner.  It  is 
between  two  lackeys,  and  begins  thus  abruptly  :  — 

Peraltcc.  Master  Fuentes,  wliat  's  the  change,  I  jiray, 

I  notice  in  your  hosiery  and  shape  ? 

You  seem  so  very  swollen  as  you  walk. 
Fuentes.  Sir,  't  is  the  breeches  fashion  now  piescribes. 
Pcraltn.   1  thought  it  was  an  under-petticoat. 
Fuentes.  I  'm  not  ashamed  of  what  I  have  put  on. 

Why  must  I  wear  my  breeches  made  like  yours  ? 

Good  friend,  j'^our  own  are  wholly  out  of  vogue. 

26  This  I  infer  from  the  fact  that,  at  and  were  not  called  cnlremcses  till  Timo- 

the  end  of  the  edition  of  the  Comedias  neda  gave  them  the  name.     Still,  they 

and  Colo(|uios,  1576,  there  is  a  "Tabla  may  have  been  earlier  used  as  such,  or 

de    los   pasos  graciosos  que  se  pueden  as  introductions  to  the  longer  dramas, 
sacar  de  las  presentes  Comedias  y  Colo-  -^  There  is  a  (ilosd  ))rintc<l  at  the  end 

<[uios  y  poner  en  otras  obras."     Indeed,  of  the  Comedias  ;  but  it  is  not  of  much 

2MS0   meant    a  passage.       Pasos   were,  value.     The  passage  preserved  by  Cer- 

iKJwever,  undoubtedly  sometimes  writ-  vantes   is   in    his   "  Bahos  de  Argel," 

ten  as  separate  works  by  Lope  de  Kueda,  near  the  end. 


64 


LOPE    DE    KUEDA. 


[Vev.wd  IL 


Feraldi.   But  what  arc  yours  so  lined  and  stuflcd  withal, 

That  thus  they  seem  so  very  smooth  and  tight  ? 
Fuenles.    Of  that  we  '11  say  hut  little.    An  old  mantle, 

And  a  cloak  still  older  and  more  spoik'd, 

Do  vainly  struggle  from  my  hose  t'  escape. 
Fcralta.  'J'o  my  mind  they  were  used  to  blotter  ends 

If  sewed  up  for  a  horse's  blanket,  sir. 
Fucntes.   But  others  stuff  in  jdenty  of  clean  straw 

And  rushes  to  make  out  a  shapely  form — • 
Feroha.    Proving  that  they  are  more  or  less  akin 

To  beasts  of  burden. 
Fuenles.  lint  tliey  wear,  at  least, 

Such  gallant  hosiery  that  things  of  taste 

■May  well  be  added  to  fit  out  their  dress. 
Fcral/a.    No  doubt  the  man  that  dresses  thus  in  straw 

May  tastefully  put  on  a  saddle  too.''^^ 

*  55  *In  all  the  forms  of  the  draiiia  attempted  by 
Lope  de  Rueda,  the  main  purpose  is  evidently 
to  amiise  a  popular  audience.  But,  to  do  this,  his 
theatrical  resources  were  very  small  and  humble.  "  In 
the  time  of  this  celebrated  Sj)aniard,"  says  Cervantes, 


28  Per.  Spiior  Fuentes,  qiic  imulanxa 

Ilabeis  hecho  en  el  calz-udo, 

Con  (jue  andais  tan  abultado  ? 
Fiient.  Seiior,  calzas  4  la  usjinza. 
Pfr.        IVnse  ijir  era  verdufjado. 
Fuent.   I'ues  _vo  d'  ellas  no  me  corro. 

Que  hail  de  ser  coino  las  vuesas? 

Ilerniano,  ya  no  usan  d'  esas. 
Per.        lias  ((ue  les  hecliais  de  aforro, 

Que  aun  se  paran  tan  tiesas? 
Fittnl.  D"  eso  poco  :  iin  sajo  viejo 

Y  toda  vma  ruin  rapa, 

Que  a  esta  calza  no  escapa. 
Ptr.       Piles,  si  van  a  mi  consejo, 

Ilecliaran  una  -^uaMnipa. 
Fiifiit.  Y  aun  otros  niandaii  poner 

Co)iia  de  paja  y  e^jjarto, 

I'orque  lee  abulteii  liarto. 
Per.       f>os  deben  de  tener 

De  bestias  quiz i  ajfiun  quarto. 
Fitent.  Pondrase  qual<|uier  alliaja 

Por  traer  calzii  pillarda. 
Per.       Cierto  yo  no  S(5  que  aguarda. 

Quien  va  vestido  de  paja 

De  hacerse  alguna  albarda. 

1  do  not  know  that  this  dialogue  is 
printed  anywhere  but  at  the  end  of  the 
edition  of  the  Comedias,  1 576.  It  refers 
evidently  to  tlie  broad-bottomed  stulfed 
hose  or  boots,  then  coming  into  fasliion  ; 
such  as  the  daughter  of  Sancho,  in  lier 
vanity,  wlien  she  heard  her  fatlier  was 
governor  of  Barrataria,  wanted  to  see 
liim  wear  ;  and  such  a.s  Don  Carlo.s,  ac- 
cording to  the  account  of 'J'liuanus,  wore. 


when  he  used  to  hide  in  their  strange 
recesses  the  ])ist()ls  that  alarmed  Philip 
II.; — "  caligis,  (ju;e  amplissimie  de 
nion;  gentis  in  usu  sunt."  They  were- 
forbidilen  by  a  royal  ordinance  in  1623. 
See  I).  Quixote,  (Parte  II.  c.  50,)  with 
two  amusing  stories  told  in  the  notes 
of  Pellicer  and  Thnani  Historiarum, 
Lib.  XLl.,  at  tlie  beginning.  Tliev 
became  iashionable  in  other  parts  of 
Europe,  as  tlie  wliole  Spanish  costume, 
liat,  f(>athers,  cloak,  etc.,  did  from  the 
spread  of  Spanish  ](Ower  and  prestige  : 
that  is,  jirecisely  for  the  .same  reasons 
that  the  French  dress  and  fa.shions  have 
si)read  since  the  time  of  Louis  XIV. 
Figueroa  ( Plaga  Universal,  161;'),  ff.  226, 
227)  has  an  amusing  article  about 
tailors,  in  which  he  claims  ]irecedence 
for  the  skill  and  taste  of  those  in  Ma- 
diid,  and  shows  liow  theii'  supremacy 
was  acknowledged  in  France  and  Italy. 
Tiiat  it  was  ai'knowledged  in  England 
in  the  time  of  Elizabeth  and  James  \. 
we  very  W(dl  know.  Roger  Ascliam, 
ill  his  "Schoolmaster,"  talks  of  the 
very  "luige  hose"  here  referied  to,  as 
an  "outrage"  to  be  rebuked  and  re- 
pressed, like  that  of  the  "monstrous 
hats,"  etc., — all  Spanish. 


€hai'.  VII.]     TI1EATKI-:  1\  'I'lIK  TIMK  t)F  J.OPE  DE  KUEDA.       G5 

recalling  the  gay  season  of  his  own  youth,-^  "  the  whole 
apparatus  of  a  manager  was  contained  in  a  large  sack, 
and  consisted  of  foin-  white  shepherd's  jackets,  turned 
up  with  leather,  gilt  and  stamped  ;  four  Ijenrds  and 
Mse  sets  of  hanging  locks  ;  and  four  shepherd's  crooks, 
more  or  less.  The  plays  were  colloquies,  like  eclogues, 
between  two  or  three  shepherds  and  a  shepherdess, 
fitted  up  and  extended  with  two  or  three  interludes, 
whose  personages  were  sometimes  a  negress,  some- 
times a  bully,  sometimes  a  fool,  and  sometimes  a  Bis- 
€ayan ;  —  for  all  these  four  parts,  and  many  others. 
Lope  himself  performed  with  the  greatest  excellence 
and  skill  that  can  be  imagined.  ....  The  theatre 
was  composed  of  four  benches,  arranged  in  a  square, 
with  five  or  six  boards  laid   across  them,  that  were 

thus  raised  about  four  palms  from  the  ground 

The  furniture  of  the  theatre  was  an  old  blanket  drawn 
aside  by  two  cords,  making  what  they  call  the  tiring- 
room,  behind  which  w^ere  the  musicians,  who  sang  old 
ballads  without  a  guitar." 

The  place  where  this  rude  theatre  was  set  up  was 
a  public  square,  and  the  performances  occurred  when- 
ever an  audience  could  be  collected ;  apparently  both 
forenoon  and  afternoon,  for,  at  the  end  of  one  of  his 
plays,  Lope  de  Rueda  invites  his  "  hearers  only  to  eat 
their  dinner  and  return  to  the  square,"  ^'^  and  witness 
another. 

His    four  longer    dramas   have    some    resem- 
blance to  portions  *  of  the  earlier  English  com-    *  56 
edy,  which,  at  precisely  the   same   period,  was 
beginning    to    show   itself  in   pieces   such   as  "Ralph 
Royster  Doyster,"   and   "  Gammer   Gurton's   Needle." 

2^  Comedias,  Prologo. 

^''  "Auditores,  no  hagais  siiio  coiner,  y  dad  la  vuelta  a  la  plaza." 


66  JUAX    DE    XmONEDA.  [rnvAoD  11. 

They  are  divided  into  what  are  called  scenes,  —  the 
shortest  of  them  consisting  of  six,  and  the  longest  of 
ten  ;  but  in  these  scenes  the  place  sometimes  changes, 
and  the  persons  often,  —  a  eircuuistance  of  little  conse- 
(juence,  where  the  whole  arrangements  implied  no 
real  attempt  at  scenic  illusion .'^^  Much  of  the  success 
of  all  depended  on  the  part  played  by  the  fools,  or 
■simples,  Avho,  in  most  of  his  di-amas,  are  important  per- 
sonages, almost  constantly  on  the  stage  ;  '^'^  while  some- 
thing is  done  by  mistakes  in  language,  arising  from 
vuliJ:ar  ii>:norance  or  from  foreiirn  dialects,  like  those  of 
negroes  and  Moors.  Each  piece  opens  with  a  brief 
explanatorj'  prologue,  and  ends  with  a  word  of  jest  and 
apology  to  the  audience.  Naturalness  of  thought,  the 
most  ■  easy,  idiomatic,  purely  Castilian  turns  of  expres- 
sion, a  good-humored,  free  gayety,  a  strong  sense  of 
the  ridiculous,  and  a  happy  imitation  of  the  manners 
and  tone  of  connnon  life,  are  the  pi-ominent  character- 
istics of  these,  as  tliey  are  of  all  the  rest  of  his  shorter 
efforts.  He  was,  therefore,  on  the  right  road,  and  was, 
in  consequence,  afterwards  justlj^  reckoned,  both  by 
Cervantes  ;ind  Lope  de  Vega,  to  be  the  true  founder 
of  the  popular  national  theatre.^ 

The  earliest  follower  of  Lope  de  Rueda  was  his 
friend  and  editor,  Juan  de  Timoneda,  a  l)Ookseller  of 
A'ak'ucia,  who  certainly  nourished  dining  the  niiddk' 
and   latter  })ai"t  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  ])r()l)ably 

31  In  the  fifth  escena  of  the  "Eufe-  da,"  ami,  wlieu  .siieakiiigof  the  SjKiiii.sli 
mia,"  the  place  changes,  when  Valiaiio  eonieilias,  treats  lii»i  as  "el  juiuiero 
comes  in.  Indeed,  it  is  evident  that  i[ue  en  Espaua  las  sacu  de  mantillas  y 
Lope  de  Rueda  did  not  know  the  mean-  his  jjuso  en  toldo  y  vistio  de  gala  y 
ing  of  the  word  *■««<",  or  did  not  employ  apaiiencia."  This  was  in  lei.'i  ;  and 
it  aright.  Cervantes  sjwke  from  his  own  knowl- 

32  The  first  traces  of  these  simplex,  edge  and  memory.  In  l(i2(l,  in  the 
who  weie  afterwards  expanded  into  the  Prologo  to  the  thirti'cnth  volume  of  his 
graciosiis,  is  to  be  found  in  the  p'(rvos  Comedias,  (Ma<lriil,  4t(),)  Lojte  de  Vega 
of  Oil  Vicente.  says,  "  Las  eomedias  no  eraii  mas  anti- 

33  Cervantes,  in  the  Prologo  already  guas(|ue  K'lieda,  a  quien  oj-eronmuchos, 
cited,  calls  him  "  el  gran  Lojie  d<'  Hue-  cjue  liDy  vivcn." 


Chap.  VII.]  JUAN    DK    TIMONEDA.  67 

died  in  extiviuc  old  age,  soon  alter  the  year 
*  1597.^^  His  thirteen  or  fourteen  pieces  that  *  57 
were  printed  pass  under  various  names,  and 
have  a  consideraljle  variety  in  their  character ;  the 
most  popular  in  their  tone  Ijeing  the  Ijest,  Four  are 
called  "Pasos,"  and  four  "  Farsas,"  —  all  much  alike. 
Two  are  called  "Comedias,"  one  of  which,  the  ''Aure- 
lia,"  written  in  short  verses,  is  divided  into  five  j'onmdas, 
and  has  an  introito,  after  the  manner  of  Naharro  ;  while 
the  other,  the  "  Cornelia,"  is  merely  divided  into  seven 
scenes,  and  Avritten  in  prose,  after  the  manner  of  Lope 
de  Rueda.  Besides  these,  we  have  what,  in  the  pres- 
ent sense  of  the  word,  is  for  the  first  time  called  an 
"Entremes";  a  Tragicomedia,  which  is  a  mixture  of 
mythology  and  modern  history ;  a  religious  Auto, 
on  the  subject  of  the  Lost  Sheep ;  and  a  translation, 
or  rather  an  imitation,  of  the  "  Menaechmi "  of  Plautus. 
In  all  of  them,  however,  he  seems  to  have  relied  for 
success  on  a  spirited,  farcical  dialogue,  like  that  of 
Lope  de  Rueda ;  and  all  were,  no  doubt,  written  to  be 
acted  in  the  public  squares,  to  which,  more  than  once, 
they  make  allusion.^^ 

The  "  Cornelia,"  first  printed  in  1559,  is  somewhat 
confused  in  its  story.  We  have  in  it  a  young  lady, 
taken,  when  a  child,  by  the  Moors,  and  returned,  when 
grown  up,  to  the  neighborhood  of  her  friends,  without 
knowing  who  she  is ;  a  foolish  fellow,  deceived  by  his 
wife,  and  yet  not  without  shrewdness  enough  to  make 
much  merriment ;  and  Pasquin,  partly  a  quack  doctor, 


^*  Ximeno,    Escritores   de  Valencia,  in  Valencia,  "in  this  honse  which  you 

Tom.   I.  p.  72,   and  Faster,  Biblioteca  see,"  he  adds,  pointing  the  spectators 

Valenciana,  Tom.  I.  p.  161.     But  best  picturesque]}-,  and  no  doubt  with  comic 

in  Barreira  y  Leirado  ad  verb.  efl'ect,  to  some  house  they  could  all  see. 

^  In  the  Prologue  to  the  Cornelia,  A   similar  je.st   about   another  of  tlie 

one  of  the  speakers  says  that  one  of  the  personages  is  repeated  a  little  furthei 

principal   personages  of  the  piece  lives  on. 


68  JUAX    DE    TOIOXEDA.    *  [Pkriod  II. 

partlj''  a  magician,  and  Avholly  a  rogue ;  who,  with,  five 
or  six  other  characters,  make  rather  a  superabunchmce 
of  materials  for  so  short  a  drama.  Some  of  the  dia- 
logues are  full  of  life  ;  and  the  development  of  two  or 
three  of  the  characters  is  good,  esjoecially  that  of  Cor- 
nalla,  the  clown ;  but  the  most  prominent  personage, 
perhaps,  —  the  magician,  —  is  taken,  in  a  considerable 
degree,  from  the  "  Negromante  "  of  Ariosto,  which  was 
represented  at  Ferrara  al^out  thirty  years  ear- 
*  58  lier,  and  proves  tluit  *  Timoneda  had  some 
scholarship,   if  not    always   a  ready  invention.^'' 

The  "Menennos,"  puljlished  in  the  same  year  with 
the  Cornelia,  is  further  proof  of  his  learning.  It  is  in 
prose,  and  taken  from  Plautus ;  but  with  large  changes. 
The  plot  is  laid  in  Seville  ;"  the  play  is  divided  into 
fourteen  scenes,  after  the  example  of  Lope  de  Rueda ; 
and  the  manners  are  altogether  Spanish.  There  is 
even  a  talk  of  Lazarillo  de  Tonnes,  when  speaking  of 
an  luiprincipled  3'oung  servant.^*^  But  it  shows  fre- 
quently the  same  free  and  natural  dialogue,  fresh  from 
common  life,  that  is  found  in  his  master's  dramas ;  and 
it  can  be  read  with  pleasure  throughout,  as  an  amusing 
rifacimento^ 

The  Paso,  however,  of  "  The  Blind  Beggars  and  the 
Boy  "  is,  like  the  other  short  jiieces,  more  characteristic 
of  the  author  and  of  the  little  school  to  which  he 
belonged.  It  is  written  in  short,  familiar  verses,  and 
opens  with  an  address  to  the  audience  by  Palillos,  the 
boy,  asking  for  employment,  and  setting  forth  his  own 
good  qualities,  which  he  illustrates  by  showing  how 

^   "Con  jirivilc^io.      CoMicdia  llama-  licniiaiio  do  Lazarillo  do  TorniPS.  cl  que 

da  Cornelia,  iiuevanieiitecompucsta,  jior  tuvo  trczicntos  y  cinoiicnta  amo.s." 
Juan  de  Timoneda.     Es  niuy  sentida,  ^  "Con  jirivilegio.     La  Coniedia  de 

graciosa,  y  vozijada.     Ano  1559."     8vo.  los  Menennos,  tiaduzida  por  Juan  Timo- 

^  It  is  in  the  twelfth  scene.      "Es  nedii,  y  jmesta  en  gracioso  estilo  y  ele- 

cl  mas  agudo   rapaz  del  mundo,  y  es  gautes  sentencias.     Afio  1559."     8vo. 


CiiAi'.    VII.]  .II'AX    I)K    TIMONKDA.  O'J 

ingeiiiou.sly  lie  had  rob))e(l  a  1)1111(1  bog-«^'ar  avIio  had 
been  his  master.  At  this  instant,  Martin  Alvarez,  the 
blind  beggar  in  question,  approaches  on  one  side  of  a 
square  where  the  scene  passes,  chanting  his  prayers, 
as  is  still  the  wont  of  such  persons  in  the  streets  of 
Spanish  cities ;  while  on  the  other  side  of  the  same 
square  approaches  another  of  the  same  class,  called 
Pero  Gomez,  similarly  employed.  Both  offer  their 
prayers  in  exchange  for  alms,  and  are  particularly 
earnest  to  obtain  custom,  as  it  is  Christinas  eve.  Mar- 
tin Alvarez  begins :  — 

What  jiious  Christian  here 
Will  bid  me  pray 
A  blessed  prayer, 
Quite  singular 
And  neA\*  I  say, 
In  honor  of  our  Lady  dear? 

*  On  hearing  the  well-known  voice,  Palillos,  the    *  59 
boy,  is  alarmed,  and,  at  first,  talks  of  escaping ; 
but,  recollecting  that  there  is  no  need  of  this,  as  the 
beggar  is  blind,  he  merely  stands  still,  and  his  old 
master  goes  on  :  — 

0,  bid  me  pray  !  0,  bid  me  pray  !  — 

The  very  night  is  holy  time,  — 
0,  bid  me  pray  the  blessed  prayer. 

The  birth  of  Christ  in  rhyme  ! 

But  as  nobody  offers  an  alms,  he  breaks  out  again :  — 

Good  heavens  !  the  like  was  never  known ! 
The  thing  is  truly  fearful  grown  ; 
For  I  have  cried. 
Till  my  throat  is  dried. 
At  every  corner  on  my  way, 
And  not  a  soul  heeds  what  I  say 
The  people,  I  begin  to  fear, 
Are  grown  too  careful  of  their  gear, 
For  honest  prayers  to  i)ay. 

The  other  blind  beggar,  Pero  Gomez,  now  comes  up 
and  strikes  in  :  — 


70 


JUAX    DE    TIMONEDA. 


FPeiuod  11. 


"Wlio  will  ask  fur  the  Lliiul  man's  prayer  ? 
0,  gentle  souls  that  hear  my  word  ! 
C.ive  but  an  humble  alms, 
And  1  will  sing  the  holy  psalms 
For  which  Pope  Clement's  bulls  afford 
Indulgence  full,  indulgen(;e  rare, 

And  add,  besides,  the  blessed  prayer 
For  the  birth  of  our  blessed  Lord.^^ 

The  two  blind  men,  hearing  each  other,  enter  into 
conversation,  and,  believing  themselves  to  be 
*  60  alone,  Alvarez  *  relates  how  he  had  been 
robbed  by  his  unprincipled  attendant,  and  Go- 
mez explains  how  he  avoids  sncli  misfortunes  by 
always  canying  the  ducats  he  begs  sewed  into  his  cajD. 
Palillos,  learning  this,  and  not  well  pleased  with  the 
character  he  has  just  receivjid,  comes  very  quietly  up 
to  Gomez,  knocks  off  his  cap,  and  escapes  with  it. 
Gomez  thinks  it  is  his  blind  friend  wlio  has  played  him 
the  trick,  and  asks  civilly  to  have  his  cap  l)ack  again. 
The  friend  denies,  of  course,  all  knowledge  of  it; 
Gomez  insists ;  and  the  dialogue  ends,  as  others  of  its 
class  do,  with  a  quarrel  and  a  fight,  to  the  great  amuse- 
ment, no  doubt,  of  audiences  such  as  were  collected  in 
the  public  squares  of  Valencia  or  Seville.'^ 


^'•i  Di'Totos  crLstianos,  quien 
M;iiida  rcKir 
I'lia  r)r:icinn  .«inf);ular 
Nueva  du  nuestra  Seiiora? 

Mandadme  rezar,  pucs  que  es 
Nophc  Santa, 
Ijii  oracion  segun  se  oanta 
Del  naciniiento  de  Cristo. 
.Ic'susl  nunca  till  he  visto, 
Cosa  es  osta  qut  uie  espanta  : 
Seca  tengo  la  giirganta 
Dc  pregnnes 

Que  voy  dando  j)()r  cantones, 
Y  uada  no  nie  aprf)vecha  : 
Ks  la  gente  tan  estreeha, 
Que  no  cuida  de  oraciones. 

Quii'n  nianda  sus  devociones, 

Noble  gi-iite, 
Que  reel'  devotaniente 
lx)S  salnios  de  penitenria, 
Por  lo8  euales  indulgenrja 
Otorg)  el  Papa  Cleuiente  ! 


La  oraeion  del  naciniiento 
De  Cliristo. 

L.  V.  Monitin,  Obras,  Madrid,  1830, 8vo,  Tom. 
I.  p.  048. 

^'^  This  Paso  —  true  to  the  manners 
of  the  times,  as  we  can  see  from  a  simi- 
lar scene  in  the  "  Diablo  C'ojuelo," 
Tranco  VI.  —  is  reprinted  by  L.  F. 
iloratin,  (Obras,  8yo,  Madrid,  1830, 
Tom.  I.  Parte  II.  p.  644,)  who  gives 
(Parte  I.  Catalogo,  Nos.  95,  9G,  106- 
IIS)  the  best  account  of  all  the  works 
of  Timoneda.  The  habit  of  .singing 
])opular  poetiy  of  all  kinds  in  the  streets 
lias  been  common,  from  the  days  of  the 
Archpriest  ilita  (Coida  14S8)"  to  our 
own  times.  I  haye  uiten  listened  to  it, 
and  possess  many  of  the  ballads  and 
other  ver.ses  still  paid  for  by  an  alms, 
as  they  were  in  this  Paso  of  Timoneda. 


CiiAi'.  VII.]                      .JUAN    1)E  TIMONEDA.                                      71 

In  one  of  tlie  jilays  of  ('(rviuitcs,  —  The  lines  in  tiie  oiiginal  iire  iioi  con- 
that  of  "Pedro  de  Urdenialas,"  —  the  secutive,  but  those  1  have  selected  are 
hero  is  introduced  enacting  the  part  of  as  follows  : — - 
a  blind  beggar,  and  is  advertising  him-  . 
self  by  his  chant,  just  as  the  beggar  in  v-sc'lat^s^^l^llXio, 
1  llnoneda  does  :  —  Lji  ae  San  Quino  y  Acacio, 
The  prayer  of  the  secret  soul  I  know,  'v*'  '*  '^'^  '""^  sabanoiies, 

That  of  Pancras  the  blessed  of  okl ;  \f  '^^  ™™^  '«■  '<•'■"••"■ 

The  prayer  of  Acacius  and  Quirce  ;  ^  resolver  lan.parones. 

One  for  ehilblains   that  come  from  the  cold,  Comedias,  iMaUrid,  1015,  4to,  f.  207. 

One  for  jaundice  that  yellows  the  skin,  '              '       ">    "  >'  '^•• 
And  for  scrofula  working  within. 


*CA  ^CHAPTER    YTTT. 

THEATRE. FOLLOWEUS    OF    LOPE    HE    Rt'EDA. ALON'SO  DE  LA  VEGA. CISNE- 

ROS. .SEVILLE. MALAUA. CLEVA. ZEl'EDA. VALENCIA. VIRUES. 

TRANSLATIONS     ANH     IMITATIONS     OF     THE     AN(  lENT     CLASSICAL     DRAMA.  — 

VILLALOHOS.  OLIVA. BOSCAN.  —  AUUIL.  ISEKMl  DEZ.  ARGENSOLA.  — 

STATE    OF    THE    THEATRE. 

Two  of  the  persons  attached  to  Lope  de  Rueda's 
company  were,  like  himself,  authors  as  well  as  actors. 
One  of  them,  Alonso  de  la  Vega,  died  at  Valencia  as 
early  as  1566,  in  which  3'ear  three  of  his  dramas,  all  in 
prose',  and  one  of  them  directly  imitated  from  his  mas- 
ter, were  published  by  Timoneda.^  The  other,  Alonso 
Cisneros,  lived  as  late  as  1570.  l)ut  it  does  not  seem 
certain  that  any  dramatic  work  of  his  now  exists.^ 
Neither  of  them  was  equal  to  Lope  de  Rueda  or  Juan 
de  Timoneda ;  but  the  four  taken  together  produced 
an  impression  on  the  theatrical  taste  of  their  times 
which  was  never  afterwards  wholly  Ibrgotten  or  lost, 
—  a  fact  of  which  the  shorter  dramatic  compositions 
that  have  been  favorites  on  the  Spanish  stage  ever 
.since  give  decisive  proof. 

But  dramatic  representations  in  Spain  between  1560 
and  1  •")!)()  were  by  110  means  confined  to  what  was  done 
by  Lope  de  Rueda,  his  IViends.  and  his  strolling  com- 
pany of  actors.  Other  efforts  were  made  in  various 
places,  and  upon  other  principles ;  sometimes  with 
more  success  than  theirs,  sometimes  with  less.  In 
Seville,  a  irood  deal  seems  I0  liave  l)een  done.      It  is 

1  C.  IVllifcr,  0n<,'(-ii  de  la  C'onifdia,  Tom.  I.  p.  Ill  ;  Tom.  II.  p.  18  ;  with  L.  F. 
Moratin,  Ohias,  Tom.  I.  Parte  11.  p.  638,  and  liis  ("ataloRo,  No.s.  100,  104,  and  105. 
^  C.  l'<-lliici-,  Uii'f,'<Mi,  Tom.   I.  p.  llti;  Tom.  II.  p.  -iO. 


CiiAi'.   VIII.]  JUAN    I)E    LA    (TEVA.  73 

probable  the  plays  of  Malara  or  Mai  Lara,  a  native  of 
that  citA",  were  represented  there  during  this 
period  ;  but  they  are  now  all  *  lost.^  Those  of  *  G2 
Juan  de  la  Cueva,  on  the  contrary,  have  been 
partly  preserved,  and  merit  notice  for  many  reasons, 
but  especially  because  most  of  them  are  historical. 
They  were  represented  —  at  least,  the  few  that  still 
remain  —  in  I-jTO,  and  the  years  immediately  sub- 
sequent; but  were  not  printed  till  l-OHS,  and  then 
only  a  single  volume  appeared.*  Each  of  them  is 
divided  into  four  jornadas,  or  acts,  and  they  are  writ- 
ten in  various  measures,  mcluding  terza  rhna^  blank 
verse,  and  sonnets,  but  chiefly  in  redondilluH  and  octave 
stanzas.  Several  are  on  national  subjects,  like  "  The 
Children  of  Lara,"  "  Bernardo  del  Carpio,"  and  '•  The 
Siege  of  Zamora  "  ;  others  are  on  subjects  from  ancient 
history,  such  as  Ajax,  Virginia,  and  Mutius  Scievola ; 
some  are  on  fictitious  stories,  like  "  The  Old  Man  in 
Love,"  and  "The  Decapitated,"  which  last  is  founded 
on  a  Moorish  adventure  ;  and  one,  at  least,  is  on  a  great 
event  of  times  then  recent,  "  The  Sack  of  Rome  "  by 
the  Constable  Bourbon.  All,  however,  are  crude  in 
•their  structure,  and  unequal  in  their  execution.  The 
Sack  of  Rome,  for  instance,  is  merely  a  succession  of 
dialogues  thrown  together  in  the  loosest  manner,  to  set 

<*  Navarrete,  Vida  de  Cervantes,    p.  luieiito  (lue  Iiizo  la  inuy  leal  Ciiulad  de 

410.     Mai  Lara  will  be  iioti(,-ed  here-  Sevilla  a  la  0.   R.   M.   del  lley  Felipe 

after,  (Period  II.  Cha]).  XXXLX.,)  but  N.  S.,"  etc   (Sevilla,   1570,   ISiuo,  if. 

here  it  may  be  well  to  mention  tliat  the  181); — ^a  curious  littli;  volume,  sonie- 

3'ear  before  his  death  he  publislied  an  times  amusing  from  tlie  liints  it  <jives 

account  of  tlie  reception  of  rhili)>  II.  about  Philijt  11.,  Ferdinand  Columbus, 

at  Seville  in  May,   1570,  when  Philip  Lebrixa,    etc.  ;    but   oftener   from    the 

visited  that  city  after  the  war  of  the  j^jeneral   description  of  the  city  or  the 

Moriscos.     Mai  Lara  prepared  the  in-  particular  accounts  of  the  ceremonies  of 

scriptions,  Latin  and  S[)anish,  used  to  the  occasion, — all  in  choice  Castilian. 
exjjlain    tlie    multitudinous    allegoricnl  ■*   L.  K.  iMoratin,  Obras,  Tom.  I.  Parte 

figures  that  constituted  a  great  jiart  of  I.,  Catalogo,  Nos.  132-139,  142-145, 

the  show  on  the  occasion,  and  printed  147,  and  150.     Martinez  de   la   Kosa, 

them,  and  everything  else  that  could  Obras,    Paris,    1827,   ]2mo,    Tom.    IL 

illustrate  the  occasion,  in  liis  "  Kecivi-  pp.   167,   etc. 


Y4  .lUAX    I)E    LA    CUEVA.  [I'l.uni,  H. 

forth  the  progress  of  the  Imperial  arms,  from  the 
siege  of  Rome  in  May,  1527,  to  the  coronation  of 
Charles  the  Filth  at  Bologna,  in  February,  1530 ;  and 
though  the  picture  of  the  outrages  at  Rome  is  not 
without  an  air  of  truth,  there  is  little  truth  in  other 
respects ;  the  Spaniards  being  made  to  carry  off  all  the 
glory. ^ 

"  El  Infamador,"  or  The  Calumniator,  sets  forth,  in 

a  different  tone,  the  story  of  a  young  lady  whu 
*  63    refuses   the   *  love    of  a  dissolute   young  man, 

and  is,  in  consequence,  accused  by  him  of  mur- 
der and  other  crimes,  and  condemned  to  death,  but  is 
rescued  by  preternatural  power,  while  her  accuser  suf- 
fers in  her  stead.  It  is  almost  throuo-hout  a  revolting: 
picture  ;  the  fathers  of  the  hero  and  heroine  being  each 
made  to  desire  the  death  of  his  own  child,  while  the 
whole  is  rendered  absurd  by  the  not  unusual  mixture 
of  heathen  mythology  and  modern  manners.  Of 
poetry,  which  is  occasionally  found  in  Cueva's  other 
dramas,  there  is  in  this  play  no  trace,  though  there  are 
passages  of  comic  spirit ;  and  so  carelessly  is  it  written, 
that  there  is  no  division  of  the  acts  into  scenes.^  In- 
deed, it  seems  difficult  to  understand  how  several  of  his 
twelve  or  fourteen  dramas  should  have  been  brought 
into  practical  shape  and  represented  at  all.  It  is  prob- 
aljle  they  were  merely  spoken  as  consecutive  dia- 
logues, to  bring  out  their  respective  stories,  without 
any  attempt  at  theatrical  illusion  ;  a  conjecture  which 
receives  confirmation  from  the  fact  that  nearly  all  of 
them   are   anuoiniced,  on   their  titles,  as  having  been 

'•  "El  Saco  (Ic  Koniii"   is  rt'iniiitcd  of  Leucino,  in  this  "Comedia,"  issome- 

iii  Ochoa,  IVatro  Es^iafiol,  I'iiris,  1838,  tiiiics  sujjposed  to  have  sugj^osted  that 

8vo,  Tom.  I.  |>.  2.'jl.  of  Don  .luan  to  Tirso  de  Molina;  but 

'   "El    Infaniaflor"    is    n;j)iinti;d    in  tin- n*s«;nil)lan(;c,  I  think,  does  not  jus- 

Ochoa,  Tom.  J.  ji.  2'J4.     'I'hc  chaructur  tify  tiic  tunj(;i;tiire. 


Chap.  VIII.]  ROMERO    I)E    ZEPEDA.  75 

represented  in  tlie  u'ardeii  of  a  certain   Dona  Elvirn  at 
Seville.' 

The  two  plaj.s  of  Joaquin  Romero  de  Zepeda,  of 
Badajoz,  which  were  printed  at  Seville  in  1-582, 
are  somewhat  different  from  those  of  Cueva.  One, 
"  The  Metamorfosea,"  is  in  the  nature  of  the  old  dra- 
matic pastorals,  but  is  divided  into  three  short  joniadas, 
or  acts.  It  is  a  trial  of  wits  and  love,  between  three 
shepherds  and  three  shepherdesses,  who  are  constantly 
at  cross  purposes  with  each  other,  but  are  at  last  recon- 
ciled and  united  ;  -7—  all  except  one  shepherd,  who  had 
originally  refused  to  love  anybody,  and  one  shepherd- 
ess, Belisena,  who,  after  being  cruel  to  one  of  her  lov- 
ers, and  slighted  by  another,  is  finally  rejected  by  the 
rejected  of  all.  The  other  play,  called  ''  La  Comedia 
Salvage,"  is  taken  in  its  first  two  acts  from 
the  well-known  dramatic  novel  of  * "  Celes-  *  64 
tina  "  ;  the  last  act  being  filled  with  atrocities  of 
Zepeda's  own  invention.  It  obtains  its  name  from  the 
Salvages  or  wild  men,  who  figure  in  it,  as  such  per- 
sonages did  in  the  old  romances  of  chivalry  and  the  old 
English  drama,  and  is  as  strange  and  rude  as  its  title 
implies.  Neither  of  these  pieces,  however,  can  have 
done  anything  of  consequence  for  the  advancement 
of  the  drama  at  Seville,  though  each  contains  passages 
of  flowing  and  apt  verse,  and  occasional  turns  of 
thought  that  deserve  to  be  called  graceful.^ 

^  One  of  the  plays,  not  rpproseiited  in  Tlie  Metamorfosea  may  be  cited  for  its 

the  Hiierta  de  Doha  Elvira,    is   repre-  pleasant  and  graceful  tone  of  poetry,  — 

sented   "en  el  Corral  de   Don  Juan,"  lyrical,  however,  rather  than  dramatic, 

and  another  in  the  Atarazanas,  — Arse-  — and  its  air  of  the  olden  time.      An- 

nal,  or  Ropewalks.     None  of  them,   I  other  play  found  by  Schack  in  MS.  is 

suppose,  appeared  on  a  public  theatre.  dated  1626,    and  implies  that  Zepeda 

•*  These  two  pieces  are  in  "  Obras  de  was    long   a  writer    for    the    theatre. 

Joachim  Romero  de  Zepeda,  Vezino  de  (Nachtrage,  18,54,   p.    59. )     Other  au- 

Badajoz,"   (Sevilla,    1582,    4to,  ff.    130  thors   living   in    Seville   at   about  the 

and  118,)  and  are  reprinted  by  Oehoa.  same  period  are  mentioned  by  La  Cu- 

The  opening  of  the  imcouii.  jo nunhi  of  eva  in  his   "Exemplar  Foetico"   (Se- 


76  CRIST(JVAL    DE    VIKUES.  [Pkkiui,  II. 

During  the  same  period,  there  was  at  Valencia,  as 
well  as  at  Seville,  a  poetical  movement  in  which  the 
drama  shared,  and  in  w  hich.  I  think,  Lope  de  Vega, 
an  exile  in  \"alencia  for  several  years,  about  1585, 
took  part.  At  any  rate,  his  friend,  Cristoval  de  A"i- 
rues,  of  whom  he  often  speaks,  and  who  was  born 
there  in  1550,  was  among  those  who  then  gave  an  hn- 
pulse  to  the  theatrical  taste  of  his  native  city.  He 
claims  to  have  first  divided  Spanish  dramas  into  three 
jonmdus  or  acts,  and  Lope  de  Vega  assents  to  the 
claim;  but  they  were,  both  mistaken,  for  we  now 
know  that  such  a  division  was  made  by  Francisco  de 
Avendaiio,  not  later  than  1553,  when  Virues  was  but 
three  years  old.^ 

Only  five  of  the  plays  of  Virues,  all  in  verse,  are 
extant ;  and  these,  though  supposed  to  have  been 
written  as  early  as  1579-1581,  were  not  printed  till 
1609,  when  Lope  de  Vega  had  already  given  its  full 
development  and  character  to  the  popular  theatre  ;  so 
that  it  is  not  improbable  some  of  the  dramas  of  Vi- 
rues, as  printed,  may  have  been  more  or  less  al- 
*  65  tered  and  accommodated  to  *the  standard  then 
considered  as  settled  by  the  genius  of  his  friend. 
Two  of  them,  the  "  Cassandra  "  and  the  "  Marcela,"  are 
on  subjects  apparently  of  the  A^ilencian  poet's  own 
invention,  and  are  extremely  wild  and  extravagant ; 
in  " El  Atila  Furioso  "  abo\e  [\'L\y  persons  come  to  an 
untimely  end,  without  reckoning  the  crew  of  a  galley 
who  perish  in  the  fianies  for  the  diversion  of  the  ty- 
rant and  his  followers;  and  in  the  "  Semiramis,"  ^''  the 

(lano,    Parnaso    Espanol,    Tom.    VIII.  Some  of  tlniii,  from  Lis  account,  Mroto 

p.  60) :  —  in   the    maniiei-  of  the  ancients  ;   and 

Ix)H  PevillanoBcomiooR,  Guevara,  lieihajis  Malaia  aiul  iMegia  are  the  per- 

Guticrre  ile  Cetina,  Coziir,  Fut-nteH,  sons  lie  refers  to. 

El  ingfuioso  Ortiz;-  9  4^,.^  L.   ]?.   Moratin,   Catalogo,   Ko. 

who  adds  that  tliere  were  otros  vutcJws,  84. 

many  more;  —  but   they  are  all  lost.  '"  The  "Semiramis"  was  jtrinted  at 


L"iiAi>.  VIll.J  CIIRlSToVAL    1)K    VIRUES.  77 

subject  is  .so  handled  that  when  Calderon  used  it  ajraiu 
in  his  two  phiys  entitled  "La  Ilija  del  Aire,"  he  eould 
not  help  casting  the  cruel  light  oi'  his  own  poetical 
genius  on  the  clumsy  work  oi'  his  predecessor.  All 
four  of  them  are  absurd. 

The  "■  Elisa  Dido  "  is  better,  and  may  be  regarded 
as  an  effort  to  elevate  the  drama.  It  is  divided  into 
five  acts,  and  observes  the  unities,  though  ^'irues  can 
hardly  have  comprehended  what  was  afterwards  con- 
sidered as  their  technical  meaning.  Its  plot,  invented 
b}^  himself,  and  little  connected  with  the  stories  found 
in  Virgil  or  the  old  Spanish  chronicles,  supposes  the 
Queen  of  Carthage  to  have  died  by  her  own  hand  for 
a  faithful  attachment  to  the  memory  of  Sichoeus,  and 
to  avoid  a  marriage  with  larbas.  It  has  no  division 
into  scenes,  and  each  act  is  burdened  with  a  chorus. 
In  short,  it  is  an  imitation  of  the  ancient  Greek  mas- 
ters ;  and  as  some  of  the  lyrical  portions,  as  well  as 
■parts  of  the  dialogue,  are  not  unworthy  the 
talent  of  the  author  of  the  ''  Monserrate,"  *  it  *  GG 
is,  for  the  age  in  which  it  appeared,  a  remark- 
able composition.  But  it  lacks  a  good  development  of 
the  characters,  as  well  as  life  and  poetical  warmth  in 

Leipzig  in  1858,  but  published  in  Lon-  capital  letter,  as  Virues  did,  he  would 

don    by   Williams   and   Norgate.      Its  have  found  that  it  was  the  river  "  Is," 

editor,   whose  name  is  not  given,   has  or  the  city  "Is"  on   its  banks,  botli 

in  this  rendered  good  service  to  early  mentioned  by   Herodotus,    (Lili.    I.    c. 

Spanish  literature  ;  but  if,  by  his  cita-  179,)  near  which  was  the  abundance  of 

tiou  of  Schack's  authority  in  the  pref-  asphalt  referred  to  l)y  Virues,  and  so 

ace,  he  desires  to  have  it  understood  the  passage  would  have  ceased  to  be 

that  that  eminent  critic  concurs  with  "unintelligible"   to   him;    and   if  he 

him   in    regarding    this   wild    play   as  had  read  carefully  the  passage,   (Jorn. 

a  work  of    "extraordinary    merit  "and  III.   v.   632,   etc.,)  he  would  not  have 

value,"  I  think  he  can  hardly  have  un-  found   "a  line  evidently  wanting."     I 

der.stood  Schack's  critici.sm  on  it  (Dra-  ratiier  think,  too,  that  the  editor  of  the 

mat.  Lit.,  Vol.   1.  p.   296).     Certainly  "Semiramis"    is   wrong  in  supposing 

he  had  not  seen  the  original  and  only  (Preface,  ]).  xi)  that  Virues  "got  his 

edition  of  Virues,  1609  ;  and,  from  the  learning  at  se(;ond  hand"  ;  and  tliat  he 

note  at  the  end  of  his  list  of  errata,  he  will  Hnd  he  was  wrong,  if  he  will  turn 

does  not  appear  always  to  comprehend  to  the  pas.sage  iu  Herodotus  from  wliich 

the  text  he  publishes.      For,  if  he  had  the  Spanish  })()ct  seems  to  me  to  have 

printed  "is"  (Jorn.  III.  v.  690)  with  a  takciu  his  description  of  Babylon. 


78  CLASSICAL    DIIAMA    ATTEMPTED.  [I'icnioi)   [1. 

the  action ;  and  being,  in  fact,  an  attempt  to  carry  the 
Spanish  drama  in  a  direction  exactly  opj^osite  to  that 
of  its  destiny,  it  did  not  sncceed.^^ 

Such  an  attempt,  however,  was  not  unlikely  to  be 
made  more  tlian  once  ;  and  this  was  certainly  an  age 
favorable  for  it.  The  theatre  of  the  ancients  Avas  now 
known  in  Spain.  The  translations,  already  noticed, 
of  Villalobos  in  1-515,  and  of  Oliva  before  1530,  had 
been  followed,  as  early  as  1510,  ))y  one  from  Euripides 
by  Boscan  ;  ^^  in  1555,  by  two  from  Plautus,  the  work 
of  an  unknown  author  ;^^  and  in  1570-  1577,  by  the 
'•Plutus"  of  Aristophanes,  the  "Medea"  of  Euripides, 
and  the  six  comedies  of  Terence,  by  Pedro  Simon  de 
Abril.^^  The  efforts  of  Timoneda  in  his  "  Menennos," 
and  of  Virues  in  his  "  Elisa  Dido,"  were  among  the 
consequences  of  this  state  of  things,  and  were  suc- 
ceeded by  others,  two  of  which  should  be  noticed. 

The  first  is  by  Geronimo  Bermudez,  a  native  of  Ga- 
licia,  who  is  supposed  to  have  been  born  about  1530; 
and  to  have  lived  as  late  as  1589.  He  was  a  learned 
Professor  of  Theology   at  Salamanca,  and   pul)lished. 


'  15 


at    Madrid,    in    1577,    two  dramas,    which    he    some 

what   boldly    called    "  the  first   Spanish    tragedies.' 

11  In  tlie  address  to  the  "  Disi-reto  Euriindcs  was  never  ]ml)lishc'd,  though 
Letor"  prefixed  to  the  only  edition  of  it  is  inehided  in  the  permission  to  i)rint 
the  "Ohras  tragicas  y  liiicas  del  Capi-  that  jjoet's  works,  given  by  ("iiarles  V. 
tan  Cristoval  de  Virnes,"  (that  of  ila-  to  Hoscan's  widow,  18th  Febrnary,  1543, 
drid,  1609,  12nio,  11'.  278,)  we  are  told  ])rclixed  to  the  first  edition  of  his  Works, 
that  h(!  had  endeavored  in  the  tirst  fbui-  whicii  appeared  that  year  at  Barcelona, 
tragedies  "to  unite  what  was  best  in  Boscan  died  in  154(1. 

ancient  art  and  modern  customs";  but  i*  L.  F.  Moratin,  Catalogo,   Nos.  86 

the  Dido,  he  .says,  "  va  escrita  toda  por  and  87. 

el  e-stilo  de  Griegos  i  Latinos  con  cui-  i*  Pellicer,  Biblioteca  de  Traductores 
dado  y  estudio."  See,  also,  L.  F.  Mo-  Espaholes,  Tom.  II.  145,  etc.  The 
ratin,  Catalogo,  Xos.  140,  141,  146,  translations  from  Terence  by  Aliril, 
148,  148;  with  MartiiK^z  de  la  Rosa,  1577,  are  accompanied  liy  Ww.  Latin 
Obras,  Tom.  II.  ])p.  153-167.  The  text,  and  .shouhl  .seem,  from  the  "  Pro- 
play  of  Andres  Key  de  Aitieda,  on  the  logo,"  to  have  been  made  in  the  hope 
"Lovers  of  Ternel,"  1581,  belongs  to  ihat  they  wouhl  directly  tend  to  reform 
this  period  and  ])lace.  Ximeno,  Tom.  the  Spanish  theatre  ;  —  perhaps  even 
L  p.  263  ;  Fiister,  Tom.  I.  p.  212.  that  tliey  would  be  publicly  acted. 

12  The    translation    of    Boscan    from  15  Sedano's  "Parnaso  Espanol"  (Tom. 


Chap.  VllL]  GEKjXI.MO    IJEKMl'DEZ.  79 

They  are  both  on  *  the  subject  of  Inez  de  *  G7 
Castro  ;  both  are  in  live  acts,  and  in  various 
verse ;  and  both  have  choruses  in  the  manner  of  the 
ancients.  But  there  is  a  great  difference  in  tlieir  re- 
spective merits.  The  first  "  Nise  Lastimosa,"  or  Inez 
to  be  Compassionated,  —  Nise  being  a  poor  anagram  of 
Inez,  —  is  hardly  more  than  a  skilful  translation  of  the 
Portuguese  tragedy  of  "Inez  de  Castro,"  by  Ferreira, 
which,  with  considerable  defects  in  its  structure,  is  yet 
full  of  tenderness  and  poetical  beauty.  The  last. 
^'  Nise  Laureada,"  or  Inez  Triumphant,  takes  up  the 
tradition  where  the  first  left  it,  after  the  violent  and 
cruel  death  of  the  princess,  and  gives  an  account  of 
the  coronation  of  her  ghastly  remains  above  twenty 
years  after  their  interment,  and  of  the  renewed  mar- 
riage of  the  prince  to  them ;  —  the  closing  scene  ex- 
hibiting the  execution  of  her  murderers  with  a  coarse- 
ness, both  in  the  incidents  and  in  the  language,  as  re- 
volting as  can  well  be  conceived.  Neither  probably 
produced  any  perceptible  effect  on  the  Spanish  drama  ; 
and  yet  the  "  Nise  Lastimosa  "  contains  passages  of  no 
little  poetical  merit;  such  as  the  beautiful  chorus  on 
Love  at  the  end  of  the  first  act,  the  dream  of  Inez  in 
the  third,  arid  the  truly  Greek  dialogue  between  the 
princess  and  the  women  of  Coimbra ;  for  the  last  two 

VI.,  1772)  contains  both  the  dramas  of  esthig  that  thoy  "will  lose  sleep  by 
Berniudez,  with  notices  of  his  life.  it."  Being  a  Galician,  he  hints,  in  the 
I  think  we  have  nothing  else  of  Ber-  Dedication  of  his  "Nise  La.stiniosa," 
mudez,  except  his  "  Hesperodia,"  a  that  Castilian  was  not  easy  to  him.  I 
panegyric  on  the  great  Duke  of  Alva,  find,  however,  no  traces  of  awkward- 
written  in  1589,  after  its  author  had  ness  in  his  manner,  and  his  Gallego 
travelled  much,  as  he  says,  in  Frances  helped  him  in  managing  Fei'reini's  Por- 
and  Africa.  It  is  a  cold  elegy,  origi-  tugaese.  The  two  tragedies,  it  should 
iially  composed  in  Latin,  and  not  be  noted,  were  published  under  the  as- 
printed  till  it  appeared  in  Sedano,  Par-  sumed  name  of  Antonio  de  Silva  ;  — 
naso  (Tom.  VII.,  1773,  p.  149).  Parts  perliaps  because  he  was  a  Dominican 
of  it  ar*  somewhat  obscure  ;  and  of  the  monk.  The  volume  (Madrid,  Sanchez, 
whole,  tran.slated  into  Spani.sh  to  please  1577)  is  a  mean  one,  and  the  tvjie  a 
a  friend  anil  that  friend's  wife,  the  an-  jioor  sort  of  Italics, 
thor  trulv  savs  that  it  is  not  so  inter- 


so  LurEiicio  LE().\Ai;i)()   i)i:  ai;(;e.\s()la.     [I'ikkm.  ii. 

of  which,  however,  Beniiiulez  was  directly  indebted 
to  Ferreira.^*^ 

Three  tragedies  b}^  Liipercio  Leonardo  de  Argensola, 
the  accomphshed  lyric  poet,  who  Avill  hereafter  be  am- 
ply noticed,  produced  a  much  more  considerable  sensa- 
tion when  the}^  first  appeared,  though  they 
*  68  were  soon  afterwards  *  as  much  neglected  as 
their  predecessors.  He  Avrote  them  wlien  he 
was  hardly  more  tlian  twenty  years  old,  and  they 
w^ere  acted  about  the  year  1585.  "  Do  \ou  not  re- 
member," says  the  canon  in  Don  Quixote,  '■  that,  a  few 
years  ago,  there  were  represented  in  Spain  three  trage- 
dies composed  hy  a  flimous  poet  of  these  kingdoms, 
which  were  such  that  they  delighted  and  astonished 
all  who  heard  them  ;  the  ignorant  as  well  as  the  judi- 
cious, the  multitude  as  well  as  the  few ;  and  that  these 
three  alone  brought  more  profit  to  the  actors  than  the 
thirty  best  phiys  that  liave  been  written  since?" — ''No- 
doubt,"  replied  the  manager  of  the  theatre,  w^ith  whom 
the  canon  was  conversing,  —  "no  doubt  you  mean  the 
'  Isabehi,'  the  '  Philis,'  and  the  'Alexandra.'  "  ^" 

This  statement  of  Cervantes  is  certainly  extraordi- 
nary, and  the  more  so  from  being  put  into  the  month 
of  the  wise  canon  of  Toledo.  But,  notwithstanding 
the  flush  of  immediate  success  which  it  implies,  all 
trace  of  these  plays  was  soon  so  completely  lost  that,, 
for  a  long  period,  the  name  ol'  the  famous  ])()et  Cer- 
vantes had  referred  to  was  not  known,  and  it  was  even 
suspected  that  lie  liad  intended  to  comphment  himself. 
At  last,  between  1700  and  1770,  two  of  them  —  the 
"Alexandra"  and  "  IsabeLa  "  —  were  accidentally  dis- 

IG  'phc  "Castro"  of  Antonio  FiTiciia,  ]-Jino,  'I'uin.  II.  pp.  123,  etc).      Its  au- 

onc of  the  most  jinii!  ami  beautiful  com-  tiior  died  of  the   pla<(ue  at  Li.sbon,  ii; 

jiositioiis  in  the  Portugue.se  language,  is  If)*)!),  only  forty-one  years  old. 

found  in  his  "Poema.s"  (Lisboa,  1771,  ^"  Don  (Quixote,  Parte  1.  e.  48. 


ViiAi'.  VI]  1. J      LUPEIICIO    LlX).\Ai;l)0    DE    AKCENSOLA.  81 

covered,  and  all  douht  roased.     Tlioy  were  found  to  be 
the  work  of  Lupereio  Jjeonardo  de  Argensola."* 

But,  unlia])|)ily,  they  quite  failed  to  satisfy  the  ex- 
pectations that  had  been  excited  by  the  good-natured 
praise  of  Cervantes.  They  are  in  various  verse,  fluent 
and  f)i^ii'e  ;  and  were  intended  to  be  imitations  of  the 
Greek  style  of  tragedy,  called  forth,  pei'haps,  by  the 
recent  attempts  of  I5«rmudez.  Each,  however,  is  di- 
vided into  three  acts ;  and  the  choruses,  origi- 
nally prepared  for  them,  are  *  omitted.  The  *' 69 
Alexandra  is  the  worse  of  the  two.  Its  scene 
is  laid  in  Egypt ;  and  the  story,  which  is  fictitious,  is 
full  of  loathsome  horrors.  Every  one  of  its  person- 
ages, except  perhaps  a  messenger,  perishes  in  the 
course  of  the  action  ;  children's  heads  are  cut  off  and 
thrown  at  their  parents  on  the  stage ;  and  the  f;ilse 
queen,  after  being  invited  to  wash  her  hands  in  the 
blood  of  the  person  to  whom  she  was  unworthily  at- 
tached, bites  off  her  own  tongue,  and  spits  it  at  her 
monstrous  husband.  Treason  and  rebellion  form  the 
lights  in  a  picture  composed  mainly  of  such  atrocities. 

The  Isabela  is  better ;  but  still  is  not  to  be  praised. 
The  story  relates  to  one  of  the  early  Moorish  Kings  of 
Saragossa,  who  exiles  the  Christians  from  his  kingdom 
in  a  vain  attempt  to  oljtain  possession  of  Isabela,  a 
Christian  maiden  with  whom  he  is  desperately  in  love, 
but  who  is  herself  already  attached  to  a  noble  Moor 
whom  she  has  converted,  and  with  whom,  at  last,  she 

1^  They  first  appeared  in  Scilauo's  they  were  deposited  by  the  heir  of  L. 
"  Paruaso  Espanol,"  Tom.  VI.,  1772.  Leonardo  de  Argensola.  They  are  said 
All  the  needful  explanations  about  them  to  eontaiu  a  better  text  than  the  MSS. 
are  in  Sedano,  Moratin,  and  Martinez  used  by  Sedano,  and  ought,  therefore, 
de  la  Rosa.  The  "  Philis"  has  not  been  for  the  honor  of  the  author,  to  be  in- 
found.  The  MS.  originals  of  the  two  quired  after.  Sebastian  de  Latre,  En- 
published  plays  were,  in  1772,  in  tlie  sayo  sobre  el  Teatro  Espahol,  folio, 
Archives  of  the  "  Escuelas  Pias  "  of  the  1773,  Prologo. 
citj'   of   Ballwstro,    in    Aragon,    where 

vol..   11.  6 


82  LUPERCIO    LEOXAKDO    DE    ARGEXSOLA.       [Peuiod  II. 

suffers  a  triumphant  inartyrdom.  Tlie  incidents  are 
numerous,  and  sometimes  well  imagined;  but  no  dra- 
matic skill  is  shown  in  their  management  and  combina- 
tion, and  there  is  little  easy  or  livinij:  dialo^aie  to  u-ive 
them  effect.  Like  the  Alexandra,  it  is  full  of  horrors. 
The  nine  most  prominent  personages  it  represents 
come  to  an  untimely  end,  and  the  bodies,  or  at  least 
the  heads,  of  most  of  them  are  CKliibited  on  the  stage, 
thouo:h  some  reluctance  is  shown,  at  the  conclusion, 
about  committing  a  supernumerary  suicide  before  the 
audience.  Fame  opens  the  piece  with  a  prologue,  in 
which  complaints  are  made  of  the  low  state  of  the 
theatre:  and  the  srhost  of  Isabela,  who  is  hardly  dead, 
comes  back  at  the  end  with  an  epilogue  very  Hat  and 
qttite  needless. 

With  all  this,  however,  a  few  passages  of  poetical 
eloquence,  rather  than  of  absolute  poetry,  are  scattered 
through  the  long  and  tedious  speeches  of  which  the 
piece  is  principally  composed  ;  and  once  or  twice  there 
is  a  touch  of  passion  truly  tragic,  as  in  the  discussion 
between  Isabela  and  her  family  on  the  threatened 
exile  and  ruin  of  their  Avhole  race,  and  in  that  be- 
tween Adulce,  her  lover,  and  Aja,  the  king's 
*  TO  sister,  who  disinterestedly  loves  *  Adulce,  not- 
withstanding she  knows  his  passion  for  her  fair 
Christian  riyal.  But  still  it  seems  inc()iu])reliensible  how 
such  a  piece  should  have  ])r()duced  the  jiopular  dra- 
matic effect  attributed  to  it.  unless  we  suppose  that  the 
Spaniards  had  from  the  first  a  passion  for  theatrical  exhi- 
bitions, which,  down  to  this  period,  had  been  so  imper- 
fectly gratified,  that  anything  dramatic,  produced  under 
favorable  circumstances,  was  run  alter  aud  admired.^^ 

1^  Tln-n?   arc   several    old   liallads  on       "  I'ljer  eine  Samiiiluiif;  Spaiiisclier  Ro- 
the   suliject   of   this    play.     See    Wolf,       iiiaiizen "    (Wieii,    IS.jO,    jip.    33,    34); 


Chap.  VIII. ]  STATE    OF    THE    THEATRE.  83 

The  dramas  of  Argcnsola,  b\'  their  date,  though  not 
by  their  character  and  spii-it,  bring  us  at  once  within 
the  period  which  opens  with  the  great  and  ])revalent 
names  of  Cervantes  and  Lope  de  \'ega.  The\',  there- 
fore, mark  the  extreme  limits  of  the  history  of  the 
early  Spanish  theatre ;  and  if  .we  now  look  back  and 
consider  its  condition  and  character  during  the  long 
period  we  have  just  gone  over,  we  shall  easily  come  to 
three  conclusions  of  some  consequence.-'^ 

The  first  is,  that  the  attempts  to  form  and  develop 
a  national  drama  in  Spain  have  been  few  and  rare. 
During  the  two  centuries  following  the  first  notice 
of  it,  ahout  12-5U,  we  cannot  learn  distinctly  that  anj^- 
thing  was  undertaken  but  rude  exhibitions  in  panto- 
mime ;  though  it  is  not  unlikely  dialogues  may  some- 
times have  been  added,  such  as  we  find  in  the  more 
imperfect  religious  jD^geants  produi^ed  at  the  same 
period  in  England  and  France.  During  the  next 
century,  which  brings  us  down  to  the  time  of  Lope  de 
Kueda,  we  have  nothing  better  than  "  Mingo  Revulgo," 
which  is  rather  a  spirited  political  satire  than  a  drama, 
Enzina's  and  Vicente's  dramatic  eclogues,  and 
Naharro's  more  dramatic  "  Propaladia,"  *  with  a  *  71 
few  translations  from  the  ancients  which  were 
little  noticed  or  known.  And  during  the  half-centiuy 
which    Lope    de    Rueda   opened   with  an   attempt  to 

but  the  historical  trailition   is  in  tlie  Aribau,   Biblioteca,  Tom.   II.  pp.  163, 

"Cronica  General,"    Parte  III.   c.   22,  225,  notes.     The  names  of  many  such 

ed.  1604,  ff.  83,  84.  —  ])arl  of  them   in  Spanish,   part   in 

2^  It  seems  probable  that  a  consider-  Latin,  and  ]iart  in  both  languages,  but 

able   number  of   dramas    belonging    to  all  akin  to  the  old  Mysteries  and  Autos 

the  period  between  Lope  de  Rueda  and  — may  be  found  in  the  Spanish  trnns- 

Lope   de  Vega,   or   between  1560  and  latioii   of  this  History,  Tom.   II.    pp. 

1590,    could    even    now   be    collected,  543-550.     A  con.siderable  number  of 

who.se  names  have  not  yet  been  given  them  seem  to  have  been  represented  in 

to  the  public  ;  but  it  is  not  likely  tliat  religious  houses,  where,  as  we  know,  a 

they  would  add  anything  important  to  more  secular  drama  afterwards  intruded 

our  knowledge  of  the  real  charact/<'r  or  and  found  much  favor, 
progress  of   the   drama    at    that    time. 


84  STATE    OF    THE    THEATRE.  [Pkiiiod  II. 

create  a  popular  di'ama,  Ave  have  obtained  only  a  few 
farces  from  himself  and  his  followers,  the  little  that  was 
done  at  Seville  and  A^alencia,  and  the  countervailing 
tragedies  of  Bermudez  and  Argensola,  who  intended, 
no  doubt,  to  follow  what  they  considered  the  safer  and 
more  respectable  traces  of  the  ancient  Greek  masters. 
Three  centuries  and  a  half,  therefore,  or  four  centuries, 
furnished  less  dramatic  literature  to  Spain  than  the 
last  half-century  of  the  same  portion  of  time  had  fur- 
nished to  Franc^e  and  Italy ;  and  near  the  end  of  tlie 
whole  period,  or  about  1585,  it  is  apparent  that  the 
national  genius  was  not  so  much  turned  towards  the 
drama  as  it  was  at  the  same  period  in  England,  where 
Greene  and  Peele  w^ere  just  preparing  the  way  for 
Marlowe  and  Shakespeare. 

In  the  next  place,  the  apparatus  of  the  stage,  includ- 
ing scenery  and  dresses,  was  very  imperfect.  During 
the  greater  part  of  the  period  we  have  gone  over, 
dramatic  exhibitions  in  Spain  were  either  religious 
jiantomimes  shown  off  in  the  churclies  to  the  people, 
or  private  entertainments  given  at  court  and  in  the 
houses  of  the  nobility.  Lope  de  Rueda  brought  them 
out  into  the  piil)lic  squares,  and  adapted  them  to  the 
comprehension,  the  taste,  and  the  humors  of  the  mul- 
tiliide.  But  he  had  no  theatre  anywhere,  and  his 
gay  farces  were  represented  on  temporary  scaffolds,  by 
his  own  company  of  strolling  players,  who  stayed  but 
a  few  days  at  a  time  in  even  the  largest  cities,  and 
were  sought,  when  there,  chiefly  l)y  the  lower  classes 
of  the  people. 

The  first  notice,  therefore,  we  have  of  anything 
approaching  to  a  regular  establishment — and  this  is  far 
removed  from  what  that  phrase  generally  implies  —  is 
in  1508.  when  an  an-angement  or  coiuprouiise  between 


CuAP.  VIII.]  STATE    OF    THE    THEATRE.  85 

the  Cliurcli  and  the  theatre  was  begun,  traces  of  which 
have  subsisted  at  Madrid  and  elsewhere  down  to  our 
own  times.  Recollecting,  no  d()ul)t,  the  origin  of  dra- 
matic representations  in  Spain  for  religious  edification, 
the  government  ordered,  in  form,  thtit  no  actors 
should  make  an  *  exhibition  in  Madrid,  except  *'  72 
in  some  place  to  be  appointed  by  two  religious 
brotherhoods  designated  in  the  decree,  and  for  a  rent 
to  be  paid  to  them;  —  an  order  in  which,  after  1-383, 
the  general  hospital  of  the  city  was  included.-^  Under 
this  order,  as  it  was  originally  made,  we  find  plays 
acted  from  1508  ;  but  only  in  the  open  area  of  a  court- 
yard, corral,  without  roof,  seats,  or  other  apparatus,  ex- 
cept such  as  is  humorously  described  by  Cervantes  to 
have  been  packed,  with  all  the  dresses  of  the  company, 
in  a  few  large  sacks. 

In  this  state  things  continued  several  years.  None 
but  strolling  companies  of  actors  were  known,  and  they 
remained  but  a  few  days  at  a  time  even  in  Madrid. 
No  fixed  place  was  prepared  for  their  reception ;  but 
sometimes  they  w^ere  sent  by  the  pious  brotherhoods 
to  one  court-yard,  and  sometimes  to  another.  They 
acted  in  the  daytime,  on  Sundays  and  other  holidays, 
and  then  only  if  the  weather  permitted  a  performance 
in  the  open  air ;  —  the  women  separated  from  the 
men,^^  and  the  entire  audience  so  small,  that  the  profit 
yielded  by  the  exhibitions  to  the  religious  societies  and 
the  hospital  rose  only  to  eight  or  ten  dollars  each 
time.^^  At  last,  in  1579  and  1583,  two  court-yards 
were    permanently  fitted  up  for  them,  belonging   to 

21  The   two    brotlievhoods   wore   the  hy  C.    Pellicer   in  his    "Ori'gen  de  la 

Cofradia  de  la  Sagrada  Pasion,  estab-  Comedia   en  Esjiana."     But   they  can 

lished  1565,  and  the  Cofradia  de  la  So-  he  found  so  well  nowhere  else.      See 

ledad,  established  1567.     The  accounts  Tom.  1.  pp.  43-77. 

of  the  early  beginnings  of  the  theatre  ^'^  C.  Pellic'ci-,  Origen,  Tom.  I.  p.  8.3. 

at  Madrid  are  awkwardly  enough  given  ^^  Ibid.,  p.  56. 


86  STATE    OF    THE    THEATRE.  [Pkuiod  II. 

houses  in  the  streets  of  the  ''Principe"  and  "  Cruz." 
Butj  though  a  rude  stage  and  benches  were  provided 
in  each,  a  roof  was  still  wanting;  the  spectators  all  sat 
in  the  open  air,  or  at  the  windows  of  the  house  whose 
court-yard  was  used  for  the  representation  ;  and  the 
actors  performed  under  a  slight  and  poor  awning,  with- 
out anything  that  deserved  to  be  called  scenery.  Tlie 
theatres,  therefore,  at  Madrid,  as  late  as  1586,  could 
not  be  said  to  be  in  a  condition  materially  to  further 
any  efforts  that  might  be  made  to  produce  a  respecta- 
ble national  drama. 

In  the  last  place,  the  pieces  that  had  been  writ- 
ten had  not  the  decided,  common  character 
*  To  on  which  a  national  *  drama  coidd  be  fairly 
founded,  even  if  their  number  had  been  greater. 
Juan  de  la  Enzina's  eclogues,  which  were  the  first 
dramatic  compositions  rej)resented  in  Spain  by  actors 
who  were  neither  priests  nor  cavaliers,  were  really 
what  they  were  called,  though  somewhat  modified 
in  their  bucolic  character  by  religious  and  political 
feelings  and  events ;  —  two  or  three  of  Naharro's  plays, 
and  several  of  those  of  Cueva,  give  more  absolute 
intimations  of  the  intriguing  and  historical  character 
of  the  stao-e,  though  the  effect  of  the  first  at  home 
was  delayed,  from  their  being  for  a  -long  time  pub- 
lished only  in  Italy;  —  the  translations  from  the 
ancients  l)y  Yillalol)os,  Oliva,  Abril,  and  others,  seem 
hardly  to  have  been  intended  for  repi'esentation,  and 
certainly  not  for  popular  effect ;  —  and  Bermudez,  with 
one  of  his  pieces  stolen  from  the  Portuguese  and  the 
other  full  of  horrors  of  his  own,  was,  it  is  plain,  little 
thought  of  at  his  first  appearance,  and  soon  quite 
neglected. 

There  were,  tlieielbre,  hcluic  1-jSG,  only  two  persons 


CiiAi>.  Vlll.]      TENDENCY    TO    A    BETTER    DRAMA.  87 

to  whom  it  was  possible  to  look  lor  tlie  estahlisluneiit 
of  a  popular  and  pennaiieiit  drama.  The  hrst  ot"  tliem 
was  Argensola,  whose  three  tragedies  enjoyed  a  degree 
of  success  before  luiknown  ;  but  tliey  were  so  little  in 
the  national  spirit,  that  they  were  early  overlooked,  and 
soon  completely  forgotten.  The  other  was  Lope  de 
Rueda,  who,  himself  an  actor,  wrote  such  fsirces  as  he 
found  would  amuse  the  common  audiences  he  served^ 
and  thus  created  a  school  in  which  other  actors,  like 
Alonso  de  la  Vega  and  Cisneros,  wrote  the  same  kind 
of  farces,  chiefly  in  prose,  and  intended  so  completely 
for  temporary  effect,  that  hardly  one  of  them  has  come 
down  to  our  own  times.  Of  course,  the  few  and  rare 
efforts  made  before  1586  to  produce  a  drama  in  Spain 
had  been  made  upon  such  various  or  contradictory 
principles,  that  they  could  not  be  combined  so  as  to 
constitute  the  safe  foundation  for  a  national  theatre. 

But,  though  the  proper  foundation  was  not  yet  laid, 
all  w^as  tending  to  it  and  preparing  for  it.  The  stage, 
rude  as  it  was,  had  still  the  great  advantage  of  being 
confined  to  two  spots,  which,  it  is  worth  notice, 
have  *  continued  to  be  the  sites  of  the  two  *  74 
principal  theatres  of  Madrid  ever  since.  The 
number  of  authors,  though  small,  was  yet  sufficient  to 
create  so  general  a  taste  for  theatrical  representations 
that  Lopez  Pinciano,  a  learned  man,  and  one  of  a  tem- 
per little  likely  to  be  pleased  with  a  rude  drama,  said, 
"  When  I  see  that  Cisneros  or  Galvez  is  going  to  act,  I 
run  all  risks  to  hear  him ;  and,  when  I  am  in  the  the- 
atre, winter  does  not  freeze  me,  nor  summer  make  me 
hot."  -*     And  finally,  the  public,  who  resorted  to  the 

-*  Philosopliia  Antigua  Poetica  de  A.  ('alircni,  Felipe  II.,  Madrid,  1619,  folio, 

L.  Pinciano,  Madrid,  1596,  4to,  p.  128.  ]>.  470.     This  quarrel  is  a  part  of  tlie 

Cisneros  was  a  famous  actor  of  the  time  drama   of    Pedro    Ximiniez   de   Aneiso 

of  Philip   II.,  ahout  whom  Don  Carlos  (sie),  entitled  El  Piineipe  Don  Carlos, 

luid  a  ijuai-.el  with  Cardinal  Kspinosa.  wliei-e    it    i.s    .set    fortli    in  .lornada   11. 


88 


TK.NDKNCY    TO    A    JJKT'l'KK    DIJAMA.         [I'mm..).   II. 


imperfect  entertjiiiimeiits  offered  tlieiii,  if  they  had  not 
determined  what  kind  of  drama  should  become  na- 
tional, had  yet  decided  that  a  national  drama  should 
be  formed,  and  that  it  should  .1)6  founded  on  the  na- 
tional character  and  manners. 


(Parte  XXVIII.  de  ('oim'ilia.s  de  vario.s 
automs,  Huesea,  1634,  f.  183,  a).  Ci.s- 
nero.s  Houri.shwl  lo7y-ir)86.  C.  Pcl- 
licer,  On'gcii,  Tom.  I.  pp.  00,  61.  Lope 
de.  Vega  .sjx'aks  of  liiiii  'vith  great  ad- 
iiiiiatiou,  as  an  actor  "beyond  compare 
since  i)lay.s  were  known."  Teregrino 
en  .su  I'atria,  ed.  1604,  f.  263. 

During  the  period  ju.st  gone  over  — 
that  between  the  death  of  Lope  de 
Kueda  and  the  succe.ss  of  Lope  de  Vega 
—  the  traee.s  of  whatever  regiirds  the 
theatre  are  to  be  l)est  found  in  Mora- 
tin'.s  "Catalogo"  (Obra.s,  1830,  Tom. 
I.  pp.  192  -  300).  lUit  there  were  many 
more  rude  efi'ort.s  made  than  he  has 
olironicled,  though  none  of  consequcaice. 
Gayangos,  in  the  Spanish  translation 
of  this  History,  (.see  note  20  of  this 
chap.,)    Las   collected   the   titles   of  a 


good  many,  and  could,  no  doubt,  easily 
have  collected  more,  if  they  had  been 
worth  the  trouble.  Some  of  those  he 
records  have  been  printed,  but  more 
are  in  manuscript  ;  some  are  in  Latin, 
.some  iuS[)anisli,  and  some  in  lioth  lan- 
guages ;  some  aie  religious,  and  .some 
seculai'.  J\lan}'  of  them  were  pi'obably 
i'epre.sented  in  religious  houses,  in  tiie 
colleges  of  the  Jesuits,  and  in  convents, 
on  occasions  of  ceremony,  like  the  elec- 
tion of  a  Bishoi),  or  the  canonization  of 
a  Saint.  Of  others  no  account  can  be 
given.  But  all  of  them  taken  together 
give  no  intimation  of  a  difierent  state 
of  th(^  drama  from  that  already  suiii- 
cicaitly  described.  AVe  see,  indeed,  from 
them  very  plainly  that  it  was  a  period 
of  change  ;  but  we  sec  nothing  el.se, 
except  that  the  change  was  very  slow. 


*  CHAPTER    IX.  *?.'> 

LUIS    DE    LEOX. EAKLY    LIFE. PERSECimONS.  —  THANSLATION    OF   THE    CAX- 

TICLES. XAMIiS    OF    CHRIST. PEKFECT    WIFE    AND    OTHER    I'ROSE    WORK-^. 

HIS    DEATH. HIS   POEilS. HIS    CHARACTER. 

It  should  not  be  forgotten  that,  while  we  have  gone 
over  the  beginnings  of  the  Italian  school  and  of  the 
existing  theatre,  we  have  had  little  occasion  lo  notice 
one  distinctive  element  of  the  Spanish  character, 
which  is  yet  almost  constantly  present  in  the  great 
mass  of  the  national  literature  :  1  mean  the  reliji-ious 
element.  A  reverence  for  the  Church,  or,  more  prop- 
erly, for  the  religion  of  the  Church,  and  a  deep  senti- 
ment of  devotion,  however  mistaken  in  the  forms  it 
wore,  or  in  the  direction  it  took,  had  been  developed 
in  the  old  Castilian  character  by  the  wars  against 
Islamism,  as  much  as  the  sy)irit  of  loyalty  and  knight- 
hood, and  had,  from  the  first,  found  no  less  fitting 
poetical  forms  of  expression.  That  no  change  took 
place  in  this  respect  in  the  sixteenth  century,  we  find 
striking  proof  in  the  character  of  a  distinguished 
Spaniard,  who  lived  about  twenty  years  later  than 
Diego  de  Mendoza,  but  one  whose  gentler  and  graver 
genius  easily  took  the  direction  which  that  of  the  elder 
cavalier  so  decidedly  refused. 

I  refer,  of  course,  to  Luis  Ponce  de  Leon,  called, 
from  his  early  and  unbroken  connection  with  the 
Church,  "  Brother  Luis  de  Leon,"  —  Fray  Luis  de  Leon. 
He  was  born  in  Belmonte,  in  Lj2(S,  and  lived  there  un- 
til he  was  five  or  six  years  old.  when  his  father,  wlio 


90  LUIS    DE    LEOX.  [Peiiiod  II. 

Avas  a  '•  king's  advocate."  removed  his  familv  first  to 
Madrid,  and  then  to  Yalhidolid.  The  young  poet's 
advantages  for  education  were  such  as  were  enjoyed  at 
that  time  only  by  persons  whose  position  in  society 
was  a  favored  one ;  and,  at  fourteen,  he  was 
*  76  sent  to  the  neighboring  *  University  of  Sala- 
manca, where,  following  the  strong  religious 
tendencies  of  his  nature,  he  entered  a  monastery  of  the 
order  of  Saint  Augustin.  From  this  moment  the  final 
direction  was  iriven  to  his  life.  He  never  ceased  to  be 
a  monk  ;  and  he  never  ceased  to  be  attached  to  the 
University  where  he  was  bred.  In  1560  he  became  a 
Licentiate  in  Theulogy,  and  immediately  afterwards 
was  made  a  Doctor  of  Divinity.  The  next  year,  at  the 
age  of  thirty-four,  he  obtained  the  chair  of  Saint 
Thonuis  Aquinas,  which  he  won  after  a  public  compe- 
tition against  several  opponents,  four  of  wliom  were 
already  professors ;  and  to  these  honors  he  added,  ten 
y^ears  later,  that  of  the  chair  of  Sacred  Literature. 

By  this  time,  however,  his  influence  and  considera- 
tion had  gathered  round  him  a  body  of  enemies,  who 
diligently  sought  means  of  disturbing  his  position.^ 
The  chief  of  them  were  either  leading  monks  of  the 
rival  order  of  Saint  Dominick  at  Salamanca,  with  whom 
he  seems  to  have  liad,  from  time  to  time,  warm  discus- 

1  Obias    (1(;1    Maestro    Fray   Luis  de  foniiitlalile  tiiliuiial,   and  probably  the 

Leon,    (Madrid,    1804-1816,    6    torn.  most  curious  and  iinj)ortant  one  in  ex- 

8vo,)  Tom.    v.    p.    292.      Hut   in  the  istence,  whether  in   MS.   or  in  print, 

very  rich    and    important    "  Colecciou  Its  nniltitudinous  documents  fill  inore 

<Ie  Documentos  ineditos  para  la   His-  than  nine  humlred  pages,  everywhere 

toria  de  Espana  por  I).  iMigutd  Salva  y  teeming  with  instruction  and  warning, 

1).   Pedro   Sainz  de   liaranda"   (Toinos  on  the  subject  of  ecclesiastical  usurpa- 

X.,    XI.,    Madiid,    1847-8,   8vo)  is  to  tions,    and   tlie   noiseless,    cold,    subtle 

be   found    the   entire   oHicial   record  of  means  by  which  they  crush  the  intel- 

the  trial  of  Luis  d(^  Leon,  taken  from  lectual  freedom  and  healthy  culture  of 

the  Archives  of  the  Imiuisition  at  Val-  a  jieople.     For  the  enmity  of  the  Do- 

hidolid,  and   now  in  tlie  National  Li-  minicans  —  in  who.se  hands  w.i.s  the  I n- 

})rary  at   Madrid;  —  bj'  far   the   most  (jui-sition  —  to  Luis  de   Leon,   and  for 

important  authentic  statement  knowti  tne  jealousy  of  his  deieatetl  competitois. 

to  me  respecting  the  treatment  of  men  .see  the.se  Documentos,  Tom.  X.  p.  100, 

of  letters  who  were  accu.sed  before  that  and  many  other  places. 


fiiAi'.  IX. I  LUIS    DE    I.EON.  91 

sions  in  tlie  public  linlls  of  the  University,  or  else 
they  were  the  competitors  whom  he  had  defeated 
in  open  contest  for  the  high  offices  he  had  obtained. 
In  each  case  the  motives  of  his  adversaries  were 
obvious. 

With  such  persons,  an  opportnnity  for  an  attack 
would  soon  be  found.  The  pretext  first  seized  upon 
was  that  he  had  made  a  translation  of  the  Song  of 
Solomon  into  Castilian,  treating  it  as  if  it  w^ere  an 
eclogue.  To  this  was  soon  added  the  suggestion  that, 
in  his  discussions  in  "the  Schools"  or  public 
halls  of  the  University,  he  *  had  declared  the  *  77 
Vulgate  version  of  the  Bible  to  be  capable  of 
improvement.  And,  finally,  it  was  intimated  that 
whde,  on  the  one  side,  he  had  leaned  to  new  and 
dangerous  opinions,  —  meaning  Lutheranism,  —  on  the 
other  side,  he  had  shown  a  tendency  to  Jewish  inter- 
pretations of  the  Scriptures,  in  consequence  of  a 
Hebrew  taint  in  his  blood,  —  always  odious  in  the 
eyes  of  those  Spaniards  who  could  boast  that  their 
race  was  pure,  and  their  descent  orthodox.^ 

The  first  formal  denunciation  of  him  was  made  at 
Salamanca,  before  Connnissaries  of  the  Holy  Office,  on 
the  seventeenth  of  December,  1571.  But,  at  the  out- 
set, everything  was  done  in  the  strictest  secrecy,  and 
wholly  without  the  knowledge  or  suspicion  of  the  ac- 
cused. In  the  course  of  this  stage  of  the  process, 
about  twenty  witnesses  were  examined  at  Salamanca, 
who  made  their  statements  in  writing,  and  the  testi- 
mony of  others  was  sent  for  to  Granada,  Valladolid, 
Murcia,  Carthagena,  Arevalo,  and  Toledo ;  so  that, 
from  the  beginning,  the  affiiir  took  the  character  it 
preserved  to  the  last,  —  that    of  a   wide-spread    con- 

■'  Docunifiitos,  Tom.  X.  i.^i.   0,  12,  19,  1-4(3-174,  207,  20S,  419-467. 


92  LU18    DE    LEOX.  [Pekiod  II. 

spiracy  against  a  23<^i'^on  whom  it  was  not  safe  to  as- 
sail without  tlie  most  cautious  and  thorough  prepara- 
tion."' 

At  hist,  wdien  all  was  ready,  the  bolt  fell.  On  the 
sixth  of  March,  1572,  he  was  personally  sunnnoned 
before  the  Tribunal  of  the  Inquisition  at  Salamanca,  and 
accused  of  having  made  and  circulated  a  vernacular 
translation  of  Solomon's  Song  ;  —  the  other  complaints 
being  apparently  left  to  be  urged  or  not,  as  might 
afterwards  be  deemed  expedient.  His  answer — which, 
in  the  official  process,  is  technically,  but  most  unjustly, 
called  his  '•  confession,"  when,  in  fact,  it  is  his  defence 
—  was  instant,  direct,  and  sincere.  He  avowed,  with- 
out hesitation,  that  he  had  made  such  a  translation  as 
was  imf)uted  to  him,  but  that  he  had  made  it  for  a  nun 
\j()m  rcllfjioHci]^  to  whom  he  had  personally  carried  it, 
and  from  whom  he  had  personally   received  it  back 

again  soon  afterward ;  —  that,  unknown  to  him, 
*  78    it   had   subsequently    *  been    copied    by  a   friar 

havins:  charge  of  his  cell,  and  so  had  come  into 
secret  circulation  ;  —  that  he  had  vainl}-  endeavored  to 
stop  its  further  diffusion,  by  collecting  the  various 
transcripts  that  had  been  thus  surre^Dtitiously  and 
fraudulently  made;  —  and  that  his  feeble  health  alone 
had  hindered  him  from  completing  —  what  he  had 
already  begun  —  a  Latin  version  of  the  book  in 
question,  with  a  commentary,  setting  forth  his  opinions 
concerning  it  in  such  a  way  as  to  leave  no  doubt 
of  their  strict  orthodoxy.  At  the  same  time  he  de- 
clared, by  the  most  explicit  and  solemn  words,  his 
unconditional  submission  to  the  authority  of  the  Holy 
Office,   and  his  devout  jDurpose,  in   all   respects,   and 

^  Documentos,  Tum.  X.  \>\>.  26,  31,      his  translation  of  Solomon's  Song  had 
74,   78,  81,  92.      Later,   tliey  sent  for      wandered,  p.  505. 
testimony  to  C'uzco,   in  Peru,  whither 


t-'iiAr.   IX.]  LUIS    DE    LEON.  9^ 

at  all  times,  to  cherish  and  defend  all  the  doctrines 
and  dogmas  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church.* 

At  this  point  in  the  inquiry,  —  and  after  this  full 
declaration  of  the  accused,  —  if  there  had  l)een  no 
motives  for  the  investigation  but  such  as  were  avowed, 
the  whole  all'air  would,  no  doubt,  have  been  stopped, 
and  nothing  more  would  have  been  heard  of  it.  But 
this  was  far  from  the  case.  His  enemies  were  personal, 
bitter,  and  unscrupulous  ;  and  they  had  spread  wide 
the  suspicion  —  as  was  done  in  relation  to  his  friend 
Arias  Montano  —  that  his  great  biblical  learning  was 
fast  leading  him  to  heresy ;  if,  indeed,  he  were  not 
already  at  heart  a  Protestant.  His  examination,  there- 
fore, was  pushed  on  with  imrelenting  severity.  His 
cause  was  removed  from  Salamanca  to  the  higher 
tribunal  at  Valladolid  ;  and,  on  the  twenty-seventh  of 
March,  1572,  he  was  arrested  and  confined  in  the 
secret  prisons  [cwceles  secret a>i']  of  the  Inquisition, 
where,  for  a  time,  he  was  denied  the  use  of  a  knife 
to  cut  his  food,  and  Avhere  he  at  no  period  obtained 
a  sheet  of  paper  or  a  book,  except  on  the  especial,  re- 
corded permission  of  the  judges  before  whom  he  was 
on  trial.  The  other  accusations,  too,  were  now  urged 
against  him  by  his  persecutors,  though,  at  last,  none 
were  relied  upon  for  his  conviction  save  those  regard- 
ing the  Song  of  Solomon  and  the  Vulgate. 

But  to  all  the  charges,  and  to  all  the  insinuations 
against  him,  as  they  were  successively  brought 
up,  he  replied  with  *  sincerity,  distinctness,  and    *"  79 
power.     Above  fifty  times  he  was  summoned  in 
person  before   his  judges,   and   the   various    defences 
which  he  read  on  these  occasions,  and  which  are  still 

*  Docuraentos,  Tom.  X.  p]).  9  -101.  to  be  "a  divine?  pastoral  ilrama."  So 
Milton,  also,  (Cliun^hOovcninient,  Book  have  many  others,  both  learned  and 
II.,  Introd.,)  eon.siders  Solomon's  Song      religious. 


'04  LUIS    DE    LEOX.  [I'kuiud  II. 

extant  in  his  own  handwriting,  make  above  two 
hundred  printed  pages,  —  not,  indeed,  marked  with 
the  rich  eloquence  which  elsewhere  flows  so  easily 
from  his  pen,  l)ut  still  written  in  the  purest  Castilian, 
and  with  extraordinary  acuteness  and  perspicacity;^ 

At  last,  when  all  the  resources  of  ecclesiastical  ino;e- 
nuity  had  been  employed,  in  vain,  for  nearly  five  years, 
to  break  his  firm  though  gentle  spirit,  the  judgment 
of  his  seven  judges  was  pronounced  on  the  twenty- 
eighth  of  September,  1570.  It  was  a  very  strange 
one.  Four  of  their  number  voted  that  "  he  should  be 
put  to  the  rack  \_qiddion  de  tormento'j,  to  ascertain  his 
intentions  in  relation  to  whatever  had  been  indicated 
and  testified  against  him ;  Init,"  they  added,  '•  that  the 
rack  should  be  applied  moderately,  from  regard  to  the 
delicate  health  of  the  accused,  and  that,  jifterwards, 
further  order  should  be  taken  in  the  case."  Two  more 
of  his  judges  were  of  opinion  that  he  should  be  rebuked 
in  the  Halls  of  the  Holy  Office,  for  having  ventured, 
at  such  a  time,  to  move  matters  tending  to  danger  and 
scandal ;  —  that,  in  presence  of  all  persons  belonging 
to  the  University,  he  should  confess  certain  proposi- 
tions gathered  out  of  his  papers  to  be  "  suspicious  and 
ambiguous";  —  and,  finally,  that  he  should  be  forbid- 
den from  all  public  teaching  whatsoever.  One  of  the 
judges  asked  leave  to  give  his  opinion  separately;  but 
whether  he  ever  did  or  not,  and,  if  he  did,  whether  it 
w^as  more  or  less  severe  than  the  opinions  of  his  coadju- 
tors, does  not  appear. 

^  In  all  cases  of  trial  before  tlic  tri-  ing  them  sometimes  with  no  little  se- 
bunal  of  the  Inquisition,  though  the  verity  for  their  injustice  and  falsehood, 
written  statements  of  the  witnesses  Throughout  the  trial  he  showed  a  gen- 
might  be  given  to  the  party  accused,  nine  simplicity  of  heart,  a  careful,  wise 
their  names  never  were.  Luis  de  Leon  logic,  and  an  unshaken  resolution, 
had  the  anonymous  testimony  of  his  Documentos,  Tom.  X.  pp.  317,  326, 
enemies  before  him,  and,  from  internal  357,  368-371,  423,  495,  and  other 
evi<lence,  often  conjectured  who  tlu-j'  passages, 
were,  naming  them  boldl)',  and  treat- 


CiiAi'.  IX.]  LUlb    DE    LEON.  95 

But  all  of  them  —  even  the  least  harsh  —  were 
Avholly  unjustified  by  any  proof  brought  against  the 
prisoner,  or  by  anything  shown  in  his  spirit 
during  the  trial.  Indeed,  *  the  lightest  punish-  *  80 
ment  proposed  implied  a  complete  degradation 
and  disgrace  of  the  devout  monk,  while  the  punish- 
ment proposed  by  the  majority  of  the  tribunal  de- 
manded a  degree  of  cruelty  which  his  feeble  frame 
could  hardly  have  endured.  Happily,  he  was  com- 
pelled to  undergo  neither  sentence.  The  members  of 
the  Supreme  Council  of  the  Inquisition  at  Madrid,  who 
had  been  repeatedly  consulted  on  different  points  in 
the  trial,  as  it  Avent  on,  showed  their  accustomed  cold, 
impassive  caution  in  their  final  judgment;  for  they 
passed  over  everything  previously  done  in  absolute 
silence ;  and,  by  a  new  and  solemn  decree,  of  Decem- 
ber 7,  1576,  decided  that  the  accused,  Luis  de  Leon,  be 
full}^  acquitted  [absiielto  de  la  instancia  deste  j'uicld],  being 
previously  warned  to  be  circumspect  both  how  and 
where  he  should  discuss  hereafter  such  matters  as  had 
given  rise  to  his  trial,  and  to  observe,  m  relation  to 
them,  great  moderation  and  prudence,  so  that  all 
scandal  and  occasion  of  error  might  cease ;  and  re- 
quiring, furthermore,  that  his  vernacular  translation  of 
Solomon's  Song  should  be  suppressed.  This  final  de- 
cree having  been  announced  to  him  in  form,  at  Valla- 
dolid,  he  was  forthwith  released  from  prison,  not,  how- 
ever, without  the  customary  caution  to  bear  no  ill-will 
against  any  person  wdiom  he  might  suspect  to  have 
testified  against  him,  and  to  observe  absolute  secrecy 
concerning  whatever  related  to  his  trial,  under  pain  of 
full  excommunication,  and  such  other  punishments  as 
might  be  deemed  needful ;  —  to  all  which,  b}^  his  sign- 
manual,  he  gave  a  promise  of  true  obedience  and  sub- 


96  LUIS    DE    LEON.  [Pkiuod  1L 

mission,  wliicli,  there  is  every  reason  to  believe,  lie 
faithfully  kept.'' 

Thus  was  ended  this  extraordinary  and  cruel  trial, 
whose  minute  details  and  discussions,  spread  over  its 
voluminous  original  documents,  show  —  as  can  be 
shown  by  no  general  statement  of  its  course  —  how 
acute,  wary,  and  unscrupulous  was  the  Inquisition  in 
persecutuig  men  of  the  highest  gifts,  and  of  the 
*  81  most  submissive  religious  *  obedience,  if  they 
were  either  obnoxious  to  the  jealousy  and  ill- 
will  of  its  members,  or  suspected  of  discussing  ques- 
tions that  might  disturb  the  sharply  defined  faith 
exacted  from  every  subject  of  the  Spanish  crown. 
But  more  and  worse  than  this,  the  very  loyalty  with 
which  Luis  de  Leon  Ijowed  himself  down  before  the 
dark  and  unrelenting  tribunal,  into  whose  presence  he 
had  been  sunnnoned,  —  sincerely  acknowledging  its 
right  to  all  the  powers  it  claimed,  and  submitting  faith- 
fully to  all  its  decrees,  —  is  the  saddest  proof  that  can 
be  given  of- the  subjugation  to  which  intellects  the 
most  lofty  and  cultivated  had  been  reduced  by  ecclesi- 
astical t\'ranny,  and  the  most  disheartening  augury  of 
the  degradation  of  the  national  character,  that  was 
sure  to  follow. 

But  the  University  remained  faithful  to  Luis  de 
Leon  tln^ough  all  his  trials  ;  —  so  far  faithful,  at  least, 
tliat  his  academical  offices  were  neither  filled  by  oth- 
ers, nor  dcclartMl  vacant.  As  soon,  therefore,  as  he 
emerged  from  tbe  cells  of  llic  ln(|uisiti()U,  he  a])])eai'ed 
again  in  the  old  halls  of  Salauianca;  and  it  is  a  beauti- 
ful circumstance  attending  his  restoration,  that  when, 

®  Dofuinontos,   Toin.    XI.    pp.    .3.01-  four  odiccrs  of  that  lii,t;]i  and  mysti'iiows 

357.      Thf    sentence    of    the    Supienic  trihiuial,  —  (tlie   lii.i;lii-st    in   Spain,)  — 

Conncil  of  tin-   Inquisition  is  certified  Uk'  secretary  alone  certifying  it  oj)enlj 

by  the  four  private  marks  [^rubricas]  of  by  his  name. 


I'UAK   IX. J  J.UIS    I)E    LEO\.  97 

on  the  thirtieth  of  December,  lOTG,  he, rose  for  the 
first  time  in  his  accustomed  place  before  a  crowded 
audience,  eager  to  hear  what  allusion  he  would  make 
to  his  persecutions,  he  ))egau  hy  simply  saying,  "As 
we  remarked  when  we  last  met,"  and  then  went  on 
as  if  the  five  bitter  years  of  his  imprisonment  had  been 
^i  blank  in  his  memory,  bearing  no  record  of  the  cruel 
treatment  he  had  suffered. 

It  seems,  however,  to  have  been  thought  advisable 
that  he  should  vindicate  his  reputation  from  the  sus- 
picions that  had  been  cast  upon  it ;  and,  therefore,  in 
1-j80,  at  the  request  of  his  friends,  he  published  an 
extended  commentary  on  the  Canticles,  interjDreting 
each  part  in  three  different  ways,  —  directly,  symbol- 
ically, and  mystically,  —  and  giving  the  whole  as  theo- 
logical and  obscure  a  character  as  the  most  orthodox 
€ould  desire,  though  still  without  concealing  his  opin- 
ion that  its  most  oljvious  form  is  that  of  a  pastoral 
eclooaie." 

*  Another  work  on  the  same  subject,  but  in  *  82 
Spanish,  and  in  most  respects  like  the  one  that 
had  caused  his  imprisonment,  was  also  prepared  by 
him,  and  found  among  his  manuscripts  after  his  death. 
But  it  was  not  thought  advisable  to  print  it  till  1798. 
Even  then  a  version  of  the  Canticles,  in  Spanish  oc- 

■^  A  Spanish  poetical  paraphrase  of  ccles  secrctas  at  Valladolid,  ho  was  led 
Solomon's  Song  was  made  at  about  the  to  believe,  in  1574,  that  Montano  was 
same  time,  and  on  the  same  principle,  dead,  though  he  did  not  die  till  1.598, 
by  Arias  Montano,  tlie  Ijiblical  seliolar.  twenty-four  years  afterwards.  Now, 
When  it  was  first  published,  I  do  not  this  could  hardly  have  occurred,  strict- 
know  ;  but  it  may  be  found  in  Faber's  ly  cut  off"  as  Luis  de  Leon  was  from  all 
Floresta,  No.  717;  and,  though  it  is  external  intercourse,  except  througli  the 
diffuse,  parts  of  it  are  beautiful.  From  officers  of  the  Lnjuisition,  nor  for  any 
several  passages  in  the  trial  of  Luis  de  purjiose  except  tliat  of  leading  Luis  de 
Leon,  it  is  certain  that  there  was  a  Leon  to  compromise  liis  friend  Montano, 
good  deal  of  intercourse  between  him  wlio,  as  we  know,  escaped  with  ditfi- 
and  Montano,  and  even  that  they  had  culty  from  the  clutches  of  the  Holy 
conferred  together  about  this  ])ortion  of  Office,  who  long  sought  grounds  for  de- 
the  Scriptures.  It  is,  moreover,  one  stroying  him.  Doeumentos,  Tom.  XI. 
of  the  significant  facts  in  tlie  trial  of  pp.  18,  19,  215,  etc. 
Luis  de  Leon  that,  being  in  tlu;  car- 
vol..  II.                                 7 


98  LUIS    DE    LEOX.  [Pekiou  II. 

taves,  a.s  an  eclogue,  intended  originally  to  accompany 
it,  was  not  added,  and  did  not  api)ear  till  1806;  —  a 
beautiful  translation,  which  discovers,  not  only  its 
author's  power  as  a  poet,  hut  the  remarkable  freedom 
of  his  theological  inquiries,  in  a  countrj-  where  such 
freedom  was,  in  that  age,  not  tolerated  for  an  instant.^ 
The  fragment  of  a  defence  of  this  version,  or  of  some 
parts  of  it,  is  dated  from  his  prison,  in  1573,  and  was 
found  long  afterwards  among  the  state  papers  of  the 
kingdom  in  the  archives  of  Simancas.^ 

While  in  prison  he  prepared  a  long  prose  work, 
which  he  entitled  '•  The  Names  of  Christ."  It  is  a 
singular  specimen  at  once  of  Spanish  theological  learn- 
ing, eloquence,  and  devotion.  Of  this,  between  1583 
and  1585,  he  published  three  books,  but  he  never  com- 
pleted it.^*^  It  is  thrown  into  the  form  of  a  dialogue, 
like  the  "Tusculan  Questions,"  which  it  was  probably 
intended  to  imitate;  and  its  purpose  is,  by  means  of 
successive  discussions  of  the  character  of  the  Saviour, 
as  set  forth  under  the  names  of  Son,  Prince,  Shepherd, 
King,  etc.,  to  excite  devout  feelings  in  those  who  read 

it.  The  form,  however,  is  not  adhered  to  with 
*  83    great   strictness.      The    *  dialogue,    instead    of 

being  a  discussion,  is,  in  fact,  a  succession  of 
speeches;  and  once,  at  least,  we  have  a  regular  ser- 
mon, of  as  much  merit,  perhaps,  as  any  in  the  lan- 
guage ; "  so  that,  taken  together,  the  entire  work  may 
be  regarded  as  a  series  of  declamations  on  the  charac- 
ter of  Christ,  as  that  chanicter  was  regarded  by  the 
more  devout   i)ortions   of  the   S]:)anish    Church   in   its 

*  Luis  (le  Li-oii,  «Jbias,  Tom.  V.   ).]..  in  tiic  v.-ision   lirst,  jml.litihcd  in  1798. 

2.58-280.     A  [iassap;e  f Vom  the  oii<(in;il  See  0 bras,  Tom.  V.  ))|).  1  -  3L 

jtrose   Castiliaii    version    of   Solomon's  ^  Ibid.,  Tom.  V.  jt.  28L 

Song  by  I-uis  de  Jyeon  is  printed  in  Ids  W  Ihj,!.^  Tom.  111.  and  IV. 

trial  (Docnmentos,  Tom.   X.  j)j).  449-  "  This  sermon  is  in  liook   First  ol 

467).      It  did'ers,  though  not  essential-  the    treatise.       Obras,    Tom.    III.    ]i\). 

ly,  from  the  same  ]  issagc  as  it  stands  1(50-214. 


Chap.  ]X.]  LUIS    DE    LEOX.  99 

tiutlior's  time.  Maiiv  parts  of  it  are  eloquent,  and  its 
eloquence  has  not  untVe(|uently  the  gorgeous  coloring 
of  the  elder  Spanish  litei-ature  ;  such,  for  instance,  as 
is  found  in  the  following  passage,  illustrating  the  title 
of  Christ  as  the  Prince  of  Peace,  and  proving  the 
beauty  of  all  harmony  in  the  moral  world  from  its 
analogies  with   the   physical  :  — 

"Even  if  reason  should  not  prove  it,  and  even  if  we 
could  in  no  other  way  understand  how  gracious  a  thing 
is  peace,  yet  would  this  fair  show  of  the  heavens  over 
our  heads,  and  this  harmony  in  all  their  manifold  fires, 
sufficiently  bear  witness  to  it.  For  what  is  it  but 
peace,  or,  indeed,  a  perfect  image  of  jieace,  that  we 
now  behold,  and  that  fills  us  with  such  deep  joy  ? 
Since  if  peace  is,  as  Saint  Augustin,  with  the  brevity 
of  truth,  declares  it  to  be,  a  quiet  order,  or  the  mainte- 
nance of  a  well-regulated  tranquillity  in  whatever 
order  demands,  —  then  what  we  now  witness  is  surely 
its  true  and  faithful  image.  For  while  these  hosts 
of  stars,  arranged  and  divided  into  their  several 
bands,  shine  with  such  surpassing  splendor,  and  while 
each  one  of  their  multitude  inviolably  maintains  its 
separate  station,  neither  pressing  into  the  place  of 
that  next  to  it,  nor  disturbing  the  movements  of  any 
other,  nor  forgetting  its  own ;  none  breaking  the 
eternal  and  holy  law  God  has  imposed  on  it;  but  all 
rather  bound  in  one  brotherhood,  ministering  one  to 
another,  and  reflecting  their  light  one  to  another, — 
they  do  surely  show  forth  a  mutual  love,  and,  as  it 
were,  a  mutual  reverence,  tempering  each  other's 
brightness  and  strength  into  a  peaceful  unity  and 
power,  whereby  all  their  different  influences  are 
combined  into  one  holy  and  mighty  harmony,  uni- 
versal and  everlasting.     And  therefore  may  it  be  most 


100  LUIS    DE    LEON.  [PEiaoD  IL 

*  84  truly  sjiid,  not  *oiily  that  tliey  clo  all  form  a 
fair  and  perfect  model  of  peace,  but  that  they 
all  set  forth  and  annouuce,  in  clear  and  gracious  words, 
what  excelU'ut  things  peace  contains  within  herself, 
and  carries  al)r()a(l  whithersoever  her  power  ex- 
tends." ^^ 

The  eloquent  treatise  on  the  Names  of  Chi'ist  was 
not.  however,  the  most  popular  of  tlie  prose  works  of 
Ijuis  de  Leon.  This  distinction  belongs  to  his  '' Per- 
fecta  Casada,"  or  Perfect  AVife  ;  a  treatise  which  he 
comi:)osed,  in  the  form  of  a  commentary  on  some  por- 
tions of  Solomon's  Proverbs,  for  the  use  of  a  lady  newly 
married,  and  which  was  first  published  in  1583. ^'"^  But 
it  is  not  necessary  specially  to  notice  either  this  work, 
or  his  Exposition  of  Job,  in  two  volumes,  accompanied 
with  a  poetical  version,  which  he  began  in  prison  for 
his  own  consolation,  and  finished  the  year  of  his  death, 
but  which  none  ventured  to  publish  till  1779.^*  Both 
are  marked  with  the  same  humble  faith,  the  same 
strong  enthusiasm,  and  the  same  elaborate,  rich  elo- 
ciuence,  that  appear,  from  time  to  time,  in  the  work 
on  the  Names  of  Christ ;  though  perhaps  the  last, 
whicii  received  the  careful  corrections  of  its  author's 
matured  genius,  has  a  serious  and  settled  power  greater 

J2  Obras,   Tom.    III.   pp.    342,    343.  with  notes  6,  12,  and  25.)     But  Luis 

This   beautiful    passage    ma_v   well    he  tie  Leon  goes  farther  than  Oliva  did, 

compared   to   his  more  beautiful  ode,  and  shows  how  diftieult  it  is  to  write 

entitled  "  Noche  Serena,"  to  whicii  it  well    in  S])anish.      "El  bieu   hablar," 

has  an  obvious  resemblance.     Luis  de  he  says,    "no  es  comuu,  sino  negocio 

Leon,    like    most    otlujr  suceessi'ul   au-  de  ])artieular  juicio,    asi  en  lo  que   se 

thor.s,   wrote  with  great  care.      In   the  dice,  (;onio  en  la  manera  como  se  dice  ; 

letter   to   his    friend    Puerto   Carrero,  y    negocio    que    de    las    palabras    cpie 

prefixed   to    the    Third    Book    of    the  todos  hablan,  elige  las  que  convieneu 

"  Nombres  de  Christo,"    he   e.\-plains,  y  mira  el  sonido  dellas,  y  aun  cuenta 

with  not  a  little  spirit,  his  reasons  for  a  veces  las  letras,  y  las  pe.se,  y  las  niide, 

writing  in  Sj)anish,  and  not  in   Latin,  y  las  compone,   para  (|ue  no  solamente 

which  it  seems  liad  been  made  matter  digan  con  claridad  lo  ipie  se  pretende 

of  reproach  to  liim.     This  was  in  InH.^),  dccir,  sino  tambicn  con  armonia  y  dul- 

the  same  year  that  the  works  of  Oliva  cura." 
were  j)ubiished,  written  in  .Spanish  and  '''  Ibid.,  'I'dui.  IV. 

defended  as  such.      (See  rt/(/c,  Cli;!]!.  V.  '*   Ibid.,  TdUi.  1.  and  II. 


rnAi'.   IX.]  LUIS    DE    LEOX.  lOl 

than  he  has  shown  anywhere  else.  But  tlie  olmraeter- 
isties  of  his  pi'ose  compositions  —  even  those  which 
from  their  natm-e  are  the  most  strictly  didactic  —  are 
the  same  everywhere ;  and  tlie  lieh  language  and 
imagery  of  the  passage  already  cited  afford  a  fair 
spechnen  of  the  style  towards  which  he  constantly 
directed  his  efforts. 

Luis  de  Leon's  health  never  recovered  from  the 
shock  it  suffered  in  the  cells  of  the  Inquisition.  He 
lived,  indeed,  nearly  fourteen  3ears  after  his  release  ; 
but  most  of  his  works,  whether  in  Castilian  or  in  Latin, 
were  written  before  his  imprisonment  or  during  its 
continuance,  while  those  he  undertook  afterwards, 
like  his  account  of  Santa  Teresa  and  some  others, 
were  *  never  finished.  His  life  was  always,  from  *  85 
choice,  very  retired,  and  his  austere  manners 
were  announced  by  his  habitual  reserve  and  silence. 
In  a  letter  that  he  sent  with  his  poems  to  his  friend 
Puerto  Carrero,  a  statesman  at  the  court  of  Philip  the 
Second  and  a  member  of  the  principal  council  of  the 
Inquisition,  he  says,  that,  in  the  kingdom  of  Old  Castile, 
where  he  had  lived  from  his  youth,  he  could  hardly 
claim  to  be  familiarly  acquainted  with  ten  persons. ^^ 
Still  he  was  extensively  known,  and  was  held  in  great 
honor.  In  the  latter  part  of  his  life  especially,  his 
talents  and  sufferings,  his  religious  patience  and  his 
sincere  faith,  had  consecrated  him  in  the  eyes  alike  of 
his  friends  and  his  enemies.  Nothino;  relatino'  to  the 
monastic  brotherhood  of  which  he  was  a  member,  or  to 
the  University  where  he  taught,  was  undertaken  with- 
out his  concurrence  and  support ;  and  when  he  died, 
in  1591,  he  was  in  the  exercise  of  a  constantly  increas- 
ing influence,  having  just  been  chosen  the  head  of  his 

i«  ()lii;is,  Tdin.  VF.  p.  -2. 


102  LUIS    DE    LEON.  [Peri-i.  II. 

Order,  and  being  engaged  in  the  preparation  of  new 
regulations  for  its  reform.^'^ 

But,  besides  the  character  in  which  we  have  thus 
far  considered  him,  Luis  de  Leon  was  a  poet,  and  a 
poet  of  no  common  genius.  He  seems,  it  is  true,  to 
have  been  httle  conscious,  or,  at  least,  little  careful,  of 
his  poetical  talent ;  for.  he  made  hardlv  an  effort  to 
cultivate  it,  and  never  took  pains  to  print  anything,  in 
order  to  prove  its  existence  to  the  world.  Perhaps, 
too,  he  showed  more  deference  than  Avas  due  to  the 
opinion  of  many  persons  of  his  time,  who  thought 
poetry  an  occupation  not  becoming  one  in  his  position ; 

for,  in  the  prefatory  notice  to  his  sacred  odes,  he 
*  86    ^ia}' s,  in  a  deprecating  *  tone,  "  Let  none  regard 

verse  as  anything  new  and  unworthy  to  be  ap- 
plied to  Scriptural  subjects,  for  it  is  rather  appropriate 
to  them ;  and  so  old  is  it  in  this  application,  that,  from 
the  earliest  ages  of  the  Church  to  the  present  day, 
men  of  great  learning  and  holiness  have  thus  employed 
it.  And  would  to  God  that  no  other  poetry  Avere  ever 
sounded  in  our  ears ;  that  only  these  sacred  tones  were 
sweet  to  us ;  that  none  else  were  heard  at  night  in 
the  streets  and  pul)lic  squares ;  that  the  child  might 
still  lisp  it,  the  retired  damsel  find  in  it  her  best  solace, 
and  the  industrious  tradesman  make  it  the  relief  of  his 
toil !  But  the  Christian  name  is  now  sunk  to  such 
inniiodest  and   reckless   degradation,  that  Ave  set  our 

1''  The  best  materials  for  the  life  of  Espanol,  Toin.  A".  ;  ami  in  the  Preface 

Luis  do  Leon,   down  to  the  end  of  his  to  a  collection  of  his  jioetry,  published 

trial   and   imprisonment  in   1576,   are  at  Valencia  by  Mayans  y  Siscar,  1761  ; 

contained  in    his   accounts  of  himself  the  last  being  also  found  in  Mayans  y 

on   that  occasion   (Documentos,    Tom.  Siscar,     "Cartas   de   A^'arios   Autores" 

X.  pp.  182,   257,  etc.),  after  which  a  (A'alencia,  1773,   12mo,  Tom.   lY.  pp. 

{^rood  deal   may  be  found  in  notices  of  398,  etc.).      Pacheco  adds  a  descrijition 

him  in   the  curious  MS.    of   Pacheco,  of  his  person,  and  the  singular  fact,  not 

]iubli.shed,  Semanario  Pintoresco,  1844,  elsewhere  noticed,  that  he  amused  him- 

p.   374;  —  those  in  N.   Antonio,   Bib.  self  with  the  art  of  ])ainting,  and  suc- 

Nova,  adverb.;  —  in  Sedano,   Parnaso  ceeded  in  his  own  portrait. 


Chap.  IX.]  LUIS    DE    LEON.  lOo 

sins  to  music,  and,  not  content  with  indulging  them  in 
secret,  shout  them  joyfully  forth  to  all  who  will  listen." 

But,  whatever  nuiy  have  been  his  own  feelings  on 
the  suitableness  of  such  an  occupation  to  his  profession, 
it  is  certain  that,  while  most  of  the  poems  he  has  left 
us  were  written  in  his  youth,  they  were  not  collected 
by  him  till  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  and  then  only  to 
please  a  personal  friend,  who  never  thought  of  publish- 
ing them ;  so  that  they  were  not  printed  at  all  till 
fortv  years  after  his  death,  when  Quevedo  gave  them 
to  the  public,  in  the  hope  that  they  might  help  to 
reform  the  corrupted  taste  of  the  age.  But  from  this 
time  they  have  gone  through  many  editions,  though 
still  they  never  appeared  properly  collated  and  ar- 
ranged till  1816.1^ 

They  are,  however,  of  great  value.  They  consist  of 
versions  of  all  the  Ecloi>:ues  and  two  of  the  Georo;ics 
of  Virgil,  about  thirty  Odes  of  Horace,  about  forty 
Psalms,  and  a  few  passages  from  the  Greek  and  Italian 
poets  ;  all  executed  w^ith  freedom  and  spirit,  and  all  in 
a  genuinely  Castilian  style.  His  translations,  however., 
seem  to  have  been  only  in  the  nature  of  exercises 
and  amusements.  But,  though  he  thus  acquired 
great  *  facility  and  exactness  in  his  versifica-  *  87 
tion,  he  wrote  little.  His  original  poems  fill  no 
more  than  about  a  hundred  pages ;  but  there  is  hardly 
a  line  of  them  which  has  not  its  value  ;  and  the  whole, 
when  taken  together,  are  to  be  placed  at  iha  head  of 

I''  The  poems  of  Luis  de  Leon  fill  the  his  works  in  prose,  together  with  the 

last  volume  of  his  Works  ;  but   there  most  important  part  of  the  docnioents 

an;  several  among  them  that  are  proha-  concerning  his  trial  by  the  Inijuisition. 

bly  spurious.     Per  contra,   a  few  more  The  volume  of  his  |)or'try  jiublished  by 

translations  by  his  hand,  and  especial-  Quevedo  in  1(531  at  Madrid,   it  maybe 

ly    an    ode    to  a  religious    life, — A  la  worth   notiee,    was  rc^jn'iiited  the  same 

vida  religiosa,  — may  be  found  in  Vol.  year  at  Milan  by  order  of  tlu;  Duke  of 

XXXVII.  of  the  Riblioteca  de  Autores  Feria,    Grand   Chancellor   there,    in   a 

Espaholes,    lSf)5,  which  consists  of  all  neat  duodecimo, 
his  poetical  works,   and  a  selection  of 


104  LUIS    DE    LEOX.  [I'kimod  II. 

Spanish  lyilc  poetry.  They  are  chiefly  rehgioiis,  and 
the  source  of  their  inspiration  is  not  to  be  mistaken. 
Luis  dc  Leon  had  a  Hebrew  soul,  and  kindles  his  en- 
thusiasm almost  al\va}'s  from  the  Jewish  Scriptures. 
Still  he  preserved  his  nationality  luiinipaired.  Nearly 
all  the  l)est  of  his  poetical  comjiositions  are  odes 
written  in  tlie  old  Castilian  measures,  with  a  classical 
purity  and  rigorous  finish  before  unknown  in  Spanish 
poetry,  and  hardly  attained  since. ^^ 

This  is  eminently  the  case,  for  instance,  with  what 
the  Spaniards  have  esteemed  the  best  of  his  poetical 
works ;  his  ode,  called  '"  The  Prophecy  of  the  Tagus," 
in  which  the  river-god  predicts  to  Roderic  the  Moorish 
conqu.est  of  his  country,  as  the  result  of  that  monarch's 
violence  to  Cava,  the  daughter  of  one  of  his  principal 
nobles.  It  is  an  imitation  of  the  Ode  of  Horace  in 
which  Nereus  rises  from  the  waves  and  predicts  the 
overthrow  of  Troy  to  Paris,  who,  under  circumstances 
not  entirely  dissimilar,  is  transporting  the  stolen  wife 
of  Menelaus  to  the  scene  of  the  fated  conflict  between 
the  two  nations.  But  the  Ode  of  Luis  de  Leon  is  writ- 
ten in  the  old  Spanish  qimdilla^,  his  favorite  measure, 
and  is  as  natural,  fresh,  and  flowing  as  one  of  the 
*  88    national    l)allads.^'*      *  Foreignei-s,    however,    less 

1*  In  iioHciiiff  tlie  Hohrow  tempera-  ])ieces,  generally  in  tlje  Italian  manner, 
Trient  of  Luis  de  Leon,  1  am  reminded  was  publislied  at  Rouen  in  France,  and 
of  one  of  his  contemporaries,  who  pos-  dedi<'ated  to  t'ardiiial  Richelieu,  then 
sessed  in  some  r(!Si)ee.ts  a  kindred  spirit,  the  all-powerful  minister  of  Louis  XIII. 
and  whose  fate  was  even  morc^  strange  They  an;  full  of  the  Litter  and  sOrrow- 
and  unhappy.  I  refer  to  Juan  Pinto  ful  feedings  of  his  exile,  and  parts  of 
Delgado,  a  I'ortuguese  Jew,  who  lived  them  ai'e  written,  not  only  with  tender- 
long  in  Sjjain,  emhraced  the  Christian  ness,  hut  in  a  sweet  and  pure  versifica- 
religion,  was  reconverted  to  the  faith  tion.  The  Hebrew  spirit  of  the  authoi', 
of  his  fathers,  fled  from  the  terrors  of  whose  projjer  name  is  Moseh  Delgado, 
the  Inquisition  to  Fiance,  and  died  breaks  through  constantly,  as  ndght  be 
there  al)out  the  year  T.'iftO.  In  1627,  expected.  I>arbosa,  Rililioteca,  Tom. 
a  volume  of  his  works,  containing  nar-  II.  p.  722.  Amador  de  los  Rios,  Ju- 
rative'  poems  on  (Jueen  Ksther  and  on  dios  de  Espafia,  Madrid,  1848,  8vo,  p. 
Ruth,  free  veisions  from  the   Lamenta-  500. 

tions  of  Jeremiah   in   the  old   7iational  '^  It  is  the  (deventh  of  Luis  de  Leon's 

quiiUiUas,  and  sonnets  and  other  short  Odes,  and  may  well  bear  a  conipaiison 


CiiAi'.   1\.]  LUiiS    DE    LEON.  105 

interested  in  wliut  is  so  peculiarly  Spanish,  and  so 
full  of  allusions  to  Spanish  history,  may  sometimes 
])refer  the  sercner  ode  •'  On  a  Life  of  Retirement,"  that 
''  On  Immortality,"  or  perhaps  the  still  more  beautiful 
one  ''On  the  Starry  Heavens";  all  written  with  the 
same  purity  and  elevation  of  spirit,  and  all  in  the  same 
national  measure  and  manner. 

A  truer  specimen  of  his  prevalent  lyrical  tone,  and, 
indeed,  of  his  tone  in  nuieh  else  of  what  he  wrote, 
is  perhaps  to  be  found  in  liis  "  Hymn  on  tlie  Ascen- 
sion." It  is  both  very  original  and  very  natural  in  its 
principal  idea,  being  supposed  to  express  the  disap- 
pointed feelings  of  the  disciples  as  they  see  theit 
Master  passing  out  of  their  siglit  into  the  opening 
heavens  above   them. 

And  dost  thou,  lioly  Shepherd,  leave 

Thine  uiiin'otected  flock  alone. 
Here,  in  this  darksome  vale,  to  grieve. 

While  thou  as:jend'st  thy  glorious  throne? 

0,  where  can  they  their  hopes  now  turn, 

Who  never  lived  but  on  thy  love  ? 
Where  rest  the  hearts  for  thee  that  burn. 

When  thou  art  lost  in  light  above  ? 

How  shall  those  eyes  now  find  repose 

That  turn,  in  vain,  thy  smile  to  see  ? 
What  can  they  hear  save  mortal  woes, 

Who  lose  thy  voice's  melody  ? 

And  who  shall  lay  his  tran(|uil  hand  ' 

Upon  the  troubled  ocean's  might  ? 

with  that  of  Horace  (Lib.  I.  Carin.  15)  ri<hncss  and  power  to  that  of  Luis  de 

which  suggested  it.     This  same  ode  of  Leon.      Horace    and    Virgil   were   evi- 

Horace  that  Luis  de  Leon  imitated  with  dently  the  favorite  Latin  poets  of  the 

such  admirable  success  was  also  imitated  latter.     When  he  was  immured  in  the 

in  the  same  way  and  on  the  same  sub-  secret  cells  of  the  Inquisition,  and  could 

ject  subse([uently  by  Franc-isco  de  Me-  obtain   books  only  by  special  written 

drano,  but  he  did  it  befon;  the  ode  of  jietition  to  the  tiibunal,  he  asked  for  a 

Luis  de  Leon  had  been  jiublished.      The  single  copy  of  each  of  thcni  to  lie  brought 

ode  of  Medrano,  —  beginning,  "  Rendi-  to  him  from  his  own  cell,  adding,  with 

doelpostrer  Godo,"  —  like  all  his  trans-  characteristic    simplicity,    "There    are 

lations  and  imitations  of  Horace,  is  well  plenty  of  thenj,"  —  h'ly  /mrios.     Docu- 

worth  reading,   although   not  equal  in  mcntos,  Tom.  X.  p.  510. 


lUG 


LUIS    DE    LEON. 


[I'EUIUD    II. 


"Who  hush  tho  wiiuls  b}-  his  command  ? 
Who  guide  u.s  through  this  staHess  night  ? 

For  Thou  art  gone  !  —  that  cloud  so  briglit, 

That  bears  thee  from  our  love  away, 
Sj)i-ings  upward  through  the  dazzling  light, 

And  leaves  us  here  to  weep  and  pray  l-'^ 

*  89  *  In  order,  however,  to  comprehend  aright  the 
genius  and  spirit  of  Luis  de  Leon,  we  must  studj', 
not  (jnl}'  his  lyrical  poetry,  but  much  of  his  prose  ;  for, 
while  his  religious  odes  and  hymns,  beautiful  in  their 
severe  exactness  of  style,  rank  him  l)efbre  Klopstock 
and  Filicaja,  his  prose,  more  rich  and  no  less  idiomatic, 
places  him  at  once  among  the  greatest  masters  of 
eloquence  in  his  native  Castilian.''^^ 


■^''  It  is  in  quhdillas  in  the  original  ; 
but  that  stanza,  I  tliink,  can  niiver,  in 
English,  l)e  made  flowing  and  easy  as  it 
is  in  Spanish.  1  have,  therefore,  used 
in  tliis  translation  a  freedom  greater 
than  1  have  generally  permitt(id  to  my- 
self, in  order  to  ajjproaeh,  if  po.ssible, 
the  bold  outlines  of  the  original  thought. 
It  begins  thus  :  — 

Y  (lexas,  pa-stor  santo, 
Tu  ;?rey  on  cstc  val'.e  hoiido  oscuro 
Con  soledad  y  Uanto, 

Y  tu  rompiendo  el  puro 

Ayre,  te  vjus  al  inniortal  seguro  1 
1ms  aute.s  hien  hadado.s, 

Y  lo.s  agora  tri.ste.s  y  afligidos, 
A  tus  peohos  criado.s, 

D(-  ti  (ie.sposeidos , 
A  do  convertiran  ya  sn.s  .sentido.'!  ? 
Ol>ras  de  Lui.s  de  Leon,  Madrid,  1816,  Tom. 
ii.  p.  42. 
A  translation  of  Luis  de  Leon's  poems 


by  (".  T5.  Schliiter  and  W.  Storck,  Miin- 
ster,  1853,  is  worth  reading  by  those 
who  are  familiar  with  the  German. 
The  version  of  this  ode  is  at  p.  130, 
and  is  in  the  ineasure  of  the  original. 
Another  similar  ver.sion  of  it  may  be 
found  in  Diepenbrock's  Ocistliidier  l-Jlu- 
menstraus,  1852,  p.  157. 

•^1  In  1837,  D.  Jo.se  de  Castro  y  Oroz- 
co  produced  on  the  stage  at  Madrid 
a  diama,  entithul  "  Fray  Liiisde  Leon," 
in  which  the  hero,  whose  name  it  bears, 
is  represented  as  renouncing  tiie  world 
and  entering  a  cloLster,  in  conseijuence 
of  a  disap})ointnient  in  love.  Diego  de 
Mendoza  is  also  one  of  the  principal 
jiersonages  in  the  same  drama,  which  is 
written  in  a  pleasing  style,  and  has 
some  poetical  merit,  notwithstanding 
its  unha])2>y  subject  and  plot. 


*  CHAPTEE    X. 


*00 


CEUVAXTES.  —  HIS    FAMILY. KDUCATION. FIRST    VERSES. LIFE    IN    ITALY. 

A    SOLDIER    IN    THE    BATTLE    OF    LEI'ANTO. A    CAPTIVE     IN    ALGIERS. 

RETURNS   HOME. SERVICE    IN    PORTUGAL. LIFE    IN    MADRID. HIS  GALA- 
TEA, AND   ITS    CHARACTER. HIS    MARRIAGE. WRITES    FOR   THE    STAGE. 

HIS     I-IFE    IN    ALGIERS. HIS    NUMANCIA. POETICAL    TENDENCIES    OF    HIS 

DRAMA. 

The  fkniily  of  Cervantes  was  originally  Galician, 
and,  at  the  time  of  his  birth,  not  only  numbered  five 
hundred  years  of  nobility  and  public  service,  bkut  was 
spread  throughout  Spain,  and  had  been  extended  to 
Mexico  and  other  jDarts  of  America.^     The  Castilian 


1  Many  lives  of  Cervantes  have  been 
written,  of  which  four  need  to  be  men- 
tioned. 1.  That  of  Gregorio  Mayans  y 
Siscar,  first  prefixed  to  the  edition  of 
Don  Quixote  in  the  original  publi-shed 
in  London  in  1738  (4  torn.  4to)  under 
the  auspices  of  Lord  Carteret,  and  af- 
terwards to  several  other  editions  ;  a 
work  of  learning,  and  the  first  proper 
attempt  to  collect  materials  for  a  life 
of  Cervantes,  but  ill  arranged  and  ill 
written,  and  of  little  value  now,  except 
for  some  of  its  incidental  discussions. 
2.  The  Life  of  Cervantes,  with  the 
Analysis  of  his  Don  Quixote,  by  Vi- 
cente de  los  Eios,  ])refixed  to  the  sump- 
tuous edition  of  Don  Quixote  by  the 
Spanish  Academy,  (Madrid,  1780,  4  torn, 
fol.,)  and  often  printed  since  ;  —  better 
written  than  the  preceding,  and  con- 
taining some  new  facts,  but  with  criti- 
cisms full  of  pedantry  and  of  extrava- 
gant eulogy.  3.  Noticias  para  la  Vida 
de  Miguel  de  Cervantes  Saavedra,  by 
J.  Ant.  Pellicer,  first  printed  in  his 
"  Ensayo  de  una  Biblioteca  de  Traduc- 
tores,"  1778,  but  much  enlarged  after- 
wards, and  prefixed  to  his  edition  of 
Don  Quixote  (Madrid,  1797-1798,  5 
tom.   Svo)  ;  poorly  digested,  and  con- 


taining a  great  deal  of  extraneous, 
though  sometimes  curious  matter  ;  but 
more  complete  than  anj^  life  that  had 
ji receded  it.  4.  Vida  de  Miguel  de 
Cervantes,  etc.,  i)or  D.  Martin  Fernan- 
dez de  Navarreti!,  published  b}^  the 
Sjianish  Academy  (Madrid,  1819,  Svo)  ; 
—  the  best  of  all,  and  indeed  one  of 
the  most  judicious  and  best  arranged 
l)iograplucal  works  that  have  been  pub- 
lished in  any  country.  Navariete  has 
used  in  it,  with  great  eff"ect,  many  new 
documents  ;  and  especially  the  lai-ge 
collection  of  papers  found  in  the  ar- 
chives of  the  Indies  at  Seville,  in  1808, 
which  comprehend  the  voluminous  In- 
formacimi  sent  by  Cervantes  himself, 
in  1590,  to  Philip  II.,  when  asking  for 
an  office  in  one  of  the  American  colo- 
nies ;  —  a  mass  of  well-authenticated 
certificates  and  depositions,  setting  forth 
the  trials  and  sufl(!rings  of  tlie  author  of 
Don  Quixote,  from  the;  time  he  entered 
the  service  of  his  country,  in  1571  ; 
through  his  captivity  in  Algiers  ;  and, 
in  fact,  till  he  rea,ched  the  Azores  in 
1582.  Tliis  tliorough  and  careful  life 
is  skilfully  abridged  by  L.  Viaidot,  in 
his  French  translation  of  Don  Quixote, 
(Paris,    1836.   2  tom.   Svo,)  and  forms 


108  MIGUEL    DE    CERVANTES    SAAVEDltA.      [rEuioD  II. 

hrnnch,  wliich,  in  the  fifteenth  centnry,  became 
*  91    connected    *  ])y    niamage    with    the    Saavedras, 

seems,  early  in  tlie  sixteenth,  to  have  flillen  off 
in  its  fortunes ;  and  we  know  that  the  parents  of 
Miguel,  who  has  given  to  the  race  a  splendor  wliich 
has  saved  its  old  nobility  from  oblivion,  Avere  poor 
inhabitants  of  Alcala  de  Ilenares,  a  small  l)ut  flourish- 
ing citv.  a])out  twentv  miles  from  Madrid.  There  he 
wjis  boi'ii,  the  youngest  of  four  children,  on  one  of  the 
early  days  of  October,  1547.^ 

No  doubt,  he  received  his  early  education  in  the 
place  of  his  nativity,  then  in  the  flush  of  its  prosperity 
and  fjiiiie  from  the  success  of  the  University  founded 
there  by  Cardinal  Ximenes,  about  fifty  years  before. 
At  any  rate,  like  many  other  generous  spirits,  he  has 
taken  an  obvious  delight  in  recalling  the  days  of  his 
childhood  in  different  parts  of  his  works  ;  as  in  hisJDon 
Quixote,  where  he  alludes  to  the  luii-ial  and  I'licliaiit- 
nients  of  the  famous  Moor  Muzaraque  on  the  great 
hill  of  Zulema,^  just  as  he  had  proliably  heard  them  in 
some  nursery  story;  and  in  his  piodcpastonil,.  "Ga- 
latea," where  he  arranges  the  scene  of  some  of  its 
most  graceful  adventures  "on  the  banks,"  as  he  fondly 
calls  it,  "of  the  famous    Henares."^     But  concerning 

tlie  substance  of  the  "  Life  and  AVritiiigs  note  to  this  passage  in  liis  transhition 
of  Miguel  de  Cervantes  Saavedra,"  hy  of  this  history,  suggests  very  ingenious- 
Thomas  Koseoe,  Lon(h)n,  1839,  ISnio.  ly  that  Cervantes  may  have  T>een   lioru 

In  the  notiee  whieh   follows   in   the  on  St.  Miehael'.s  day,  September  29,  as 

text,  1  have  relied  for  my  facts  on  the  it  was  common  in  Spain  to  name  chil- 

work  of  Navarrete,  whenever  no  other  dren  after  the  Saint  on  \vho.se  festival 

authoiity  is  referred  to  ;  but  in  tlie  lit-  they  were  born,  and  as  the  feast  of  St. 

erary  criticisms  Navarrete  can   hardly  Michael  was  but  lecently  jjassed  when 

afford  aid,  for  he  hardly  indulges  him-  he  was  baptized, 

self  in  them  at  all.  '^  Don  Quixote,  Parte  I.  c.  29. 

2  Th(;  date  of  the  baptism  of  Cervan-  *   "En   las   riberas  del    famoso    He- 

tes  is  October  9,  l.')47  ;  and  as  it  is  the  nares."     (Galatea,    ]\Iadrid,   1784,  8vo, 

practice  in  the  Catholic  Church  to  per-  Tom.   I.   p.  66.)     Elsewhej-e  he  .speaks 

form  this  i-ite  soon  afterbirth,  we  may  of   "  nuestro  Henares";    the    "/(ivwso 

a-ssume,  with  sufficient  probability,  that  Conijduto"    (p.    121);    and    "  mtesira 

Cervantes  was  born  on  that  very  day,  or  fresco  Heuares,"  p.   108. 
the   day  preceding.     But  Julius,   in  a 


^ 


Chap.  X]  CERVANTES    AT    SCHOOL.  100 

his  youth  Ave  know  only  whnt  he  incidentally  tells  us 
himself;  —  that  he  took  great  pleasure   in   attending 
the  theatrical  representations  of  Lope  de  Rueda;''  that 
he  wrote  Acrses  when  very  young ; ''  and  that  lie 
alwa\s  read  everything  *  within  his  reach,  even,    *  92 

.  »/  O  7  7 

as  it  should  seem,  the  torn  scraps  of  paper  he 
picked   up  in  the  })ublic  streetsJ 

It  has  been  conjectured  that  he  pursued  his  studies 
in  part  at  Madrid,  and  there  is  some  probability,  not- 
withstanding the  poverty  of  his  fjimily,  that  he  passed 
two  years  at  the  University  of  Salamanca.  But  what 
is  certain  is,  that  he  obtained  a  public  Tind  decisive 
mark  of  respect,  Ijefore  he  was  twenty-two  years  old, 
from  one  of  his  teachers;  for,  in  1569,  Lope  de  Hoyos 
pul)lished,  by  autliority,  on  the  death  of  the  mihappy 
Isabelle  de  Valois,  Avife  of  Philip  the  Second,  a  volume 
of  verse,  in  which,  among  other  contributions  of  his 
pupils,  are  six  short  poems  by  Cervantes,  whom  he 
calls  his  "•  dear  and  well-beloved  disciple."  This  was, 
no  doubt,  Cervantes's  first  appearance  in  print  as  an 
author;  and  though  he  gives  in  it  little  proof  of 
poetical  talent,  yet  the  affectionate  words  of  his  master 
by  which  his  verses  were  accompanied,  and  the  circmn- 
stance  that  one  of  his  elegies  was  written  m  the  name 
of  the  wdiole  school,  show  that  he  enjoyed  the  respect  of 
•  his  teacher  and  the  good-will  of  his  fellow-students.*^ 

^  Coraedias,  Madrid,  1749,  4to,  Tom.  ote.   Parte  I.   c.  9,  cd.  Clenieiicin,  Ala- 

I.,  Prologo.  drid,  1833,  4to,  Tom.  I.  j).  198,)  when 

''  Galatea,   Tom.    I.   p.    x,    Prologo  ;  giving  an  account  of  his  taking  up  the 

and  in  the  well-known  fourth  chapter  waste  jiaper  at  the  silkmcrcer's,  which, 
of  the   "  Viage  al   Parnaso,"  (Madrid,   "   as  he  pn^tends,   turned   out   to  be   the 

1784,   8vo,   p.   53,)  he  says  : —  Life  of  Don  Quixote  in  Arabic. 

Desde  mi.-?  tiernos  anos  am^  el  arte  ^_  The  verses  of  Cervantes  on  this  oc- 

Dulce  de  la  agradable  poe.sia,  caslon  may   be   found  partlv   in    Kios, 

Y  en  ella  procur(5  siempre  agradarte.  "  Pruebas '  de  la   Vida   de   Cervantes," 

■?  "  Como  soy  aficionado  a  leer  aun([ue  ed.  Academia,  Nos.  2-5,  and  partly  in 

sean  los  papeles  rotos  de  las  calles,  lie-  Navarrete,   Vida,   pp.  262,  2()3.     They 

vado  desta  mi  natural  inclinacion,  tome  are  poor,  and  tlie  mdy  circumstance  that 

un  cartapacio,"  etc.,  he  says,  (Don  Quix-  makes  it  wortli  while  to  refer  to  tlieni  i-;. 


110  CERVAXTF..S    IX    ITALY.  [Pkkk.d  h. 

The  next  year,  1570,  we  find  him,  without  any  no- 
tice of  the  cause,  removed  from  all  his  early  connec- 
tions, and  servino;  at  Eome  as  chamherlain  in  the 
household  of  Monsignor  Aquaviva,  soon  afterwards 
a  cardinal;  the  same  person  who  had  heen  sent,  in 
1568,  on  a  special  mission  from  the  Pope  to 
*  93  Philip  the  Second,  *  and  who,  as  he  seems  to 
have  had  a  regard  for  literatiu"e  and  for  men  of 
letters,  may,  on  his  return  to  Itid}',  have  taken  Cer- 
vantes with  him  from  interest  in  his  talents.  The 
term  of  service  of  the  young  man  must,  however,  have 
been  short.  Perhaps  he  was  too  much  of  a  Spaniard, 
and  iiad  too  proud  a  spirit,  to  remain  long  in  a  position 
at  best  very  equivocal,  and  that,  too,  at  a  period  when 
the  Avorld  Avas  full  of  solicitations  to  adventure  and 
military  glory. 

But,  W'hatever  may  have  been  his  motive,  he  soon 
left  Rome,  and  its  court.  In  1571,  the  Pope,  Philip 
the  Second,  and  the  state  of  Venice  concluded  what 
was  called  a  "  Holy  League "  against  the  Turks,  and 
set  on  foot  a  joint  armament,  commanded  by  the  chiv- 
alrous Don  John  of  Austria,  a  natural  son  of  Charles 
the  Fifth.  The  temptations  of  such  a  romantic,  as 
well  as  imposing,  expedition  against  the  ancieiit  oji- 
pressor  of  whatever  was  Spanish,  and  the  formidable 
enemy  of  all  Christendom,  were  more  than  Cervantes,, 
at  the  age  of  twenty-three,  could  resist;  and  the  next 
tliino;  we  hear  of  him  is,  that  he  had  volunteered  in  it 

that  Hoyos,  who  was  a  professor  of  ele-  prove  the  pleasant  relations  in  which 
gant  literature,  calls  Cervantes  repeated-  Cervantes  stood  with  some  of  the  pi  in- 
ly "euro  discipulo,"  and  " amado  dis-  cij)al  poets  of  his  day,  such  as  Padilla, 
cipulo "  ;  and  says  that  the  Elegy  is  Maldonado,  Banos,  Vague  de  Salas, 
written  "en  nombre  de  <o(Zo  c/ c.s/Mf^w."  Hernando  de  Herrera,  etc.  Of  Hoyos 
These,  with  other  miscellaneous  poems  and  liis  voltinic  of  verses  curious  notices 
of  Cervantes,  are  collected  for  the  first  may  U-  found  in  the  "  Disertacion  His- 
time  in  the  first  volume  of  the  "  Bil)li-  torico  Geogiafico,  ec,  de  Madrid,  ])or 
oteca  de  Autores  Espaftoles,"  by  Aribau  I).  Juan  Ant.  Pellicer,"  Madrid,  1803, 
{Madrid,  1846,  8vo,  pp.  612-620)  ;  and  4to,  pp.  108,  Sipj. 


Chap.  X.]  CEKVAN'PES    AT    LEPAXTO.  Ill 

as  a  common  soldier.  For,  as  he  says  in  a  work  writ- 
ten just  before  his  death,  he  had  alwaj'S  observed 
"•'that  none  make  better  soldiers  than  those  who  are 
transplanted  from  the  region  of  letters  to  the  fields  of 
war,  and  that  never  scholar  became  soldier  that  was 
not  a  good  and  brave  one."^  Anhnated  with  this 
spirit,  he  entered  the  service  of  his  country  among 
the  troops  with  which  Spain  then  filled  a  large  piirt 
of  Italy,  and  continued  in  it  till  he  was  honorably  dis- 
charged in  1575. 

During  these  four  or  five  years  he  learned  many  of 
the  hardest  lessons  of  life.  He  was  present  in  the 
sea-fight  of  Lepanto,  October  7,  1571,  and,  though  suf- 
fering at  the  time  under_ji_ifixej:v-i***^i*^te<^^  <>*^  bearing 
his  part  in_that  great  battle,  which  first  decisively 
arrested  the  intrusion  of  the  Turks  into  the 
*  West  of  Europe.  The  galley  in  which  he  *  94 
served  was  in  the  thickest  of  the  contest,  and 
that  he  did  his  duty  to  his  country  and  to  Christen- 
dom he  carried  proud  tuid  painful  proof  to  his  grave  ; 
for,  besides  two  other  wounds,  he  received  one  which 
deprived  him  of  the  use  of  his  left  hand  and  arm  dur- 
ing the  rest  of  his  life.  With  the  other  sufferers  in 
the  fight,  he  was  taken  to  the  hospital  at  Messina, 
wdiere  he  remained  till  April,  1572;  and  then,  under 
Marco  Antonio  Colonna,  w^ent  on  the  expedition  to  the 
Levant,  to  which  he  alludes  with  so  much  satisfaction 
in  his  dedication  of  the  "  Galatea,"  and  which  he  has 
so  well  described  in  the  story  of  the  Captive  in  Don 
Quixote. 

The  next  year,  1573,  he  was  in  the  affliir  of  the  Go- 

^  "  Xo  hay  mejores  soldados,  (jue  los  do,   que  no  lo  fuese  por  estrerao,"  etc. 

que  se  trasplantan  de  la  tierra  de  los  Persiles    y    Sigismuiida,     Lib.    III.    e. 

estudios  en  los  campo.s  de  la  gueiTa  ;  10,    Madrid,    1802,    8vo,   Tom.    II.   p. 

iiinguno  salio  de  estudiante  para  solda-  128. 


112  CERVANTES    A    SLAVE    IN    ALGIEKS.       [Tkimou  J  I. 

leta  at  Tunis,  under  Don  John  of  Austria^  and  after- 
wards, Avitli  the  regiment  to  which  he  was  attached,^*^ 
returned  to  Sicily  and  Italy,  man}-  parts  of  wdiich,  m 
different  journeys  or  expeditions,  he  seems  to  have 
visited,  remaining  at  one  time  in  Naples  above  a 
year."  -^lis  period  of  his  life,  however,  though 
marked  with  much  suffering,  seems  jiever  to  have 
been  regarded  by  him  with  regret.  On  the  conti-ary, 
al)ove  forty  years  afterward,  with  a  generous  pride  in 
what  he  had  undergone,  he  declared  that,  if  the  alter- 
native were  again  offered  him,  he  shoidd  account  his 
w^ounds  a  cheap  exchange  for  the  glorj^  of  having  been 

pi-esent  in  that  great  enterprise.^^ 
*  95         *When  he  was  discharged,  in  loTo,  he  took 

with  him  letters  from  the  Duke  of  8esa  and  Don 
John,  connnending  him  earnestly  to  the  king,  and  em- 
baiked  for  Spain.  But  on  the  twenty-sixth  of  Septem- 
ber he  was  captured  ^'^  and  carried  into  Algiers,  where 
he  passed  five  years  yet  more  disastrous  and  more  full 
of  adventure  than  the  five  preceding.  He  served  suc- 
cessively three  cruel  masters,  —  a  Greek  and  a  Vene- 
tian, both  renegadoes,  and  the  Dey,  or  King,  himself; 

1''  The  rcginu'iit  in  which  he  served  seiiucntly  contiinu-d  in  the  same  spirit 

was  one  of  tlie  most  t'amoiis  in  the  ar-  by  Luis  de  IJavia  and  others, 
mies  of  I'hilii)  II.     It  was  the  "Tercio  ^^  All  liis  works  uontaiii  allusions  to 

de  Flandes,"  and  at  the  head  of  it  was  the  experiences  of  his  life,  and  especially 

Lope  de   Figneroa,   who  acts  a  distin-  to  his  travels.     When  he  sees  Naples  in 

gui.shed  part  in  two  of  the  plays  of  Cal-  his  imaginary  Viage  del  Parnaso  (c.  8, 

deron, —  "Amar  despnesde  la  Mnerte,"  p.  126),  he  exclaims, — 
and    "El   Alcalde  de   Zalaniea."      Cer-  Ksta  ciudiul  es  Napoles  la  ilustre, 

vantes    probably    joined    this    favorite  Uu<!  .vo  pise  sus  ruas  mas  de  un  afio. 

ri;giment  again,   when,  as  M'e  shall  see,  ^-   "Si  ahora  me  ])ropusieran  y  facili- 

lie  engaged  in  the  expedition  to  Portu-  taran  un  imjjosible,"  says  Cervantes,  in 

gal  in  1581,  whither  we  know  not  only  reply  to  the  coarse  i)ersonalities  of  Avel- 

that  he  went  that  year,  but  that  the  laneda,  "  (piisiera  antes  liaber  me  hal- 

Elanders  reginient  went  also.      Of  tin;  lado  en  ai[uella  faccion  proiligiosa,  que 

affair  of  tln^  Goleta  at  Tunis  a  spirited  sano  ahora  de  fnis  heridas,  sin  haberme 

account  is  given  in  a  little  tract  in  the  hallado  en  ella."     Prologo  a  Don  Quix- 

liiblioteca  de  Autores  Es]ianoles  (Tom.  ole,  Parte  Segunda,  IGl.*). 
XXL  18.'j2,  P]).  4:A-i'>H),   by  Oonzalo  ^-^  His  Algerine  captoj-,  Arnaute,  fig- 

delllesca.s;  —  the  same  ])erson  who  pub-  nres  in   the  ballads  of  the  time.     See 

lished,  in  1. 574,  the  beginning  of  a  very  Duran,    Homancero    General,    Tom.    L 

dull  Pontifical  History,  which  was  sub-  ])]>.  xiv  and  147. 


liiAP.   X.]  CKllVANTES    A    SLAVE    IN    ALGIERS.  113 

the  first  two  tonneiitliig  him  with  that  peculiar  ha- 
tred against  Christians  wliieh  naturally  helonged  to 
persons  who,  from  unworthy  motives,  had  joined  them- 
selves to  the  enemies  of  all  Christendom;  and  the 
last,  the  Dey,  claiming  him  for  his  slave,  and  treat- 
ing him  with  great  severity,  hecause  he  had  fled 
from  his  master  and  become  formidable  by  a  series 
of  efforts  to  obtain  libeity  for  himself  and  his  fellow- 
captives. 

Indeed,  it  is  plain  that  the  spirit  of  Cervantes,  so  far 
from  having  been  broken  by  his  cruel  captivity,  had 
been  only  raised  and  strengthened  by  it.  On  one  oc- 
casion he  attempted  to  escape  by  land  to  Gran,  a 
Spanish  settlement  on  the  coast,  but  was  deserted  by 
his  guide  and  compelled  to  return.  On  another,  he 
secreted  thirteen  fellow-sufferers  in  a  cave  on  the  sea- 
shore, where,  at  the  constant  risk  of  his  own  life,  he 
provided  during  many  weeks  for  their  daily  wants, 
while  waiting  for  rescue  by  sea ;  but  at  last,  after  he 
iiad  joined  them,  was  basely  betrayed,  and  then  nobly 
took  the  whole  punishment  of  the  conspiracy  on  him- 
self. Once  he  sent  for  help  to  break  forth  by  violence, 
and  his  letter  was  intercepted  ;  and  once  he  had  ma- 
tured a  scheme  for  being  rescued,  with  sixty  of  his 
countrymen,  —  a  scheme  of  which,  when  it  was  de- 
feated by  treachery,  he  again  announced  himself  as 
the  only  author  and  the  willing  victim.  And  finally, 
he  had  a  grand  project  for  the  insurrection  of  all  the 
Christian  slaves  in  Algiers,  which  was,  perha])s,  not 
unlikely  to  succeed,  as  their  nuitiber  was  full  twen- 
ty-five thousand,  and  which  was  certainly  so 
*  alarming  to  the  Dey,  that  he  declared  that,  *  90 
^'  If  he  could  but  keep  that  lame  Spaniard  well 
guarded,  he  should  consider  his  capital,  his  slaves,  and 


114 


CEKVAXTES    A    tSLAVE    IN    ALGIERS.       [Pkiuod  IL 


his  galleys  safe."  ^*  On  each  of  these  occasions,  se- 
vere, but  not  clegrading,^^  punishments  Avere  inflicted 
upon  him.  Four  times  he  expected  instant  death  in 
the  awful  form  of  impalement  or  of  fire  ;  and  the  last 
time  a  rope  was  absolutely  put  about  his  neck,  in  the 
vain  hope  of  extorting  from  a  spirit  so  lofty  the  names 
of  his  accomjDlices. 

At  last,  the  moment  of  release  came.  His  elder 
l)rother,  who  was  captured  with  him,  had  Ijeen  ran- 
somed three  years  before ;  and  now  his  widowed 
mother  was  obliged  to  sacrifice,  for  her  younger  son's 
freedom,  all  the  pittance  that  remained  to  lier  in  the 
world,  including  the  dowry  of  her  daughters.  But 
even  this  was  not  enough  ;  and  the  remainder  of  the 
poor  five  hundred  crowns  that  were  demanded  as  the 
price  of  his  liberty  was  made  up  partly  by  small  bor- 
rowings, and  partly  by  the  contributioiis~"or're- 
*  97    ligious  charity .^"^     In  this  way  he  *  was  ransomed 


l*  One  of  the  most  trustwoitliy  and 
curious  sources  for  tliis  jjart  of  the  iife 
of  Cervantes  is  "La  Ilistoria  y  Topo- 
gratia  de  Argel,"  por  D.  Diego  de  Hae- 
do,  (Valhidolid,  1(512,  folio,)  in  whieh 
Cervantes  is  often  mentioned,  but  which 
seems  to  have  been  overlooked  in  all  in- 
(piiries  relating  to  him,  till  Sarmiento 
stumbled  upon  it,  in  1752.  It  is  in 
this  work  that  occur  the;  words  cited  in 
the  text,  and  wliicli  ])rove  how  fonnida- 
ble  Cervantes  had  become  to  the  Dey, 
—  "  Decia  Asan  Ikja,  Key  de  Argel, 
que  como  el  tuviese  guardado  al  estro- 
])eado  Espauol  tenia  seguros  sus  cris- 
tianos,  sus  baxeles  y  aun  toda  la  ciu- 
dad."  (f.  18,5.)  And  just  before  this, 
referring  to  the  bold  project  of  Cervan- 
tes to  take  the  city  by  an  insurrection 
of  the  slaves,  Haedo  says,  "Y  si  a  su 
animo,  indu.stria,  y  traza.s,  corresiion- 
iliera  la  ventura,  hoi  fuera  el  dia,  i[ue 
Argel  fuera  de  cristianos  ;  poirpie  no 
aspiraban  a  menos  sus  intentos."  All 
this,  it  sliould  be  lecollectcd,  was 
jiuVilislied  four  years  before  Cervante.s's 
death.  The  whole  book,  including  not 
oidy  the  liistoiy,  Imt  the  dialogues  at 


the  end  on  the  sufferings  and  martyr- 
dom of  the  Christians  in  Algiers,  is 
very  cuiious,  and  often  throws  a  strong 
light  on  passages  of  Spanish  literature 
in  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  cen- 
turies, which  so  often  refer  to  tlie  Moors 
and  their  Christian  slaves  on  the  coasts 
of  Barbary. 

15  With  true  Spanish  ])ride,  Cervan- 
tes, when  alluding  to  liimself  in  the 
story  of  the  Captive,  (Don  Quixote, 
Parte  I.  c.  40,)  says  of  the  Dey,  "Solo 
libro  bien  con  el  un  sohlaclo  Espa- 
nol  Uaniado  tal  de  Saavedra,  al  ijual 
con  haber  hecho  cosas  que  quedaran 
en  la  memoria  de  aijuellas  gentes  por 
muchosanos,  y  todos  poralcanzar  liber- 
tad,  jdmna  In  dio  palo,  ni  se  lo  mando 
dar,  ni  le  dixo  mala  palalira,  y  por  la 
menor  cosa  de  n)uchas  (jue  hizo,  temia- 
mos  todos  que  habia  de  ser  empalado, 
y  asi  lo  temid  el  vma  dr.  una  vez." 

1^  A  lieautiful  tribute  is  paid  by  Cer- 
vantes, in  his  tale  of  the  "  Espanola 
Inglesa,"  (Novelas,  Madrid,  1783,  8vo, 
Tom.  I.  jip.  :}o8,  :5.5i». )  to  the  zeal  and 
disinterestedness  of  the  poor  piiests  and 
monks,    who  went,   sometimes   at    the 


Cjiap.  X.]  CERVANTES    KETUKXS    HOME.  11-3 

on  the  ninetoontli  of  September,  1580,  just  at  the 
moment  Avhen  he  had  embarked  with  his  master, 
the  Dey,  for  Constantinople,  whence  his  rescue  woukl 
liave  been  all  but  hopeless.  A  short  time  afterward 
he  left,  Algiers,  where  we  have  abundant  proof  that, 
by  his  disinterestedness,  his  courage,  and  his  fidelity, 
he  had,  to  an  extraordinary  degree,  gained  the  affec- 
tion aud  res])ect  of  the  multitude  of  Christian  captives 
with  which  that  city  of  anathemas  was  then  crowded.^' 
But,  though  he  was  thus  restored  to  his  home  and 
his  country,  and  though  his  first  feelings  may  have 
been  as  fresh  and  happy  as  those  he  has  so  eloquently 
expressed  more  than  once  when  speaking  of  the  joys 
of  freedom,^*  still  it  should  be  remembered  that  he  re- 
turned after  an  al^sence  of  ten  years,  beginning  at  a 
period  of  life  when  he  could  hardly  have  taken  root 
in  society,  or  made  for  himself,  amidst  its  struggling 
interests,  a  place  which  would  not  be  filled  almost  as 
soon  as  he  left  it.     His  father  w\as  dead.     His  famil}', 

risk  of  theii-  lives,  to  Algiers  to  redeevii  deservcul    all    tlic    reverence    they    r(;- 

the  Christians,   and   one   of  whom   re-  ceived. 

mained  there,  giving  his  person  in  ^~  Cervantes  was  evidently  a  ]k'1'soii 
pledge  for  fonr  thousand  ducats  whiidi  of  great  kindliness  and  generosity  of 
he  had  borrowed  to  send  home  captives.  disposition  ;  but  he  never  overcame  a 
Of  Father  Juan  Gil,  who  effected  the  strong  feeling  of  hatred  against  the 
redemption  of  Cervantes  himself  from  Moors,  inherited  from  his  ancestors  and 
slavery,  Cervantes  speaks  expressly,  in  exasperated  by  his  own  captivity.  Tliis 
his  "Trato  de  Argel,"  as  feeling  appears  in  both  his  ])lays,  writ- 
UnfrayleTrinitario,  Christiani.simo,  teil  at  distant  periods,  on  the  subject 
Amigo  lie  hacer  bien  y  conociao  of  his  life  in  Algiers  ;  in  the  tiftv-fourth 
Porque  ha  estado  otra  vez  en  esta  tierra  chai)ter  of  the  second  Tiart  of  Don  C)uix- 
Reseatando  Christianos ;  v  di )  exemplo  i  •  xi  it  -i  o-  •  i  i  -i 
De  una  gran  Ohristiandad  y  gran  prSdencia  ;  -  ^^e  ;  m  the  Persi  es  y  Mglsmunda,  Lib. 
SunombreesFrayJuauGil.  III.  cap.  10;  and  elsewhere.  But  ex- 
Jornada  V.  cept  this,  and  an-  occasional  toucii  of 
A  friar  of  the  blessed  Trinity,  satire  against  duennas,  —  in  which  C)ue- 
A  truly  Christian  man,  known  as  the  friend  ^^^^^  ^^^^  Luis  Velez  de  Guevara  are  as 
Ofall  good  chanties,  who  once  before  v  mw  <iiiv^    x^     -> 

Came  to  Algiers  to  ransom  Oliristian  slaves,  severe  as  lie  is,  —  and  a  little  bitterness 

And  gave  example  in  himself,  and  proof  about  p)rivate   chaplains  that  exercised 

Of  a  most  wise  and  Chri.stian  faithfulness.  .^  cunning  influence  in  the  houses  of  the 
His  name  IS  Fnar  Juan  Gil.  ^    i  i  ^i  ■         •       ii  i  •  i 

great,  1  know  nothing,  in  all  his  works, 

Haedo  gives  a  similar  account  of  Friar  to  impeach  his  universal  good-nature. 

Juan  Gil  in  his  "Topogratia  de  Argel"  Sei!  Don  Quixote,  ed.  Clemencin,  Vol. 

(1612,  ff.  144,  sqrp).      Indeed,  not  a  few  V.  p.  260,  note,  and  p.  138,  note, 
of  the  "padres  de  la  liniosna,"  as  they  18  For  a  beautiful  pa.ssage  on  Liberty, 

were  called,  appear  to  great  advantage  see  Don  Quixote,  Parte  if,  opening  of 

in  this  interesting  work,  and,  no  doiil)t,  cliaiiter  58. 


116  THE    GALATEA.  [Pkuiud  II. 

poor  before,  had  been  reduced  to  a  still  more  bitter 
povert}-  by  his  own  ransom  and  that  of  his  brother. 
He  was  imfriended  and  unknown,  and  must  have  suf- 


fered naturally  anci  deeply  from  ar"sort~Tof-^ grief  and 
disappointment  which  he  had  felt  neither  as  a 
*  98  soldier  nor  *  as  a  slave.  It  is  not  remarkable, 
therefore,  that  he  should  have  entered  anew  into 
the  service  of  his  country,  — joining  his  brother,  prob- 
ably in  the  same  regiment  to  which  he  had  formerly 
belon":ed,  and  which  was  now  sent  to  maintain  the 
Spanish  authority  in  the  newly  acqiured  kingdom  of 
Portugal.  How  Ion*;-  he  remained  there  is  not  certain. 
But  he  was  at  Lisbon,  and  went,  under  the  Marquis  of 
Santa  Cruz,  in  the  expedition  of  1-381,  as  well  as  in 
the  more  important  one  of  the  year  following,  to  re- 
duce the  Azores,  which  still  held  out  against  the  arms 
of  Philip  the  Second.  From  this  period,  therefore,  we 
are  to  date  the  full  knowledge  he  frequently  shows  of 
Portuguese  literature,  and  that  strong  love  for  Portugal 
which,  in  the  third  book  of  "Persiles  and  Sigismunda," 
as  well  as  in  other  parts  of  his  works,  he  exhibits  with 
a  kindliness  and  generosity  remarkable  in  a  Spaniard 
of  any  age,  and  particularly  in  one  of  the  age  of 
Philip  the  Second.-^'' 

It  is  not  unlikely  that  this  circumstance  had  some 
influence  on  the  first  direction  of  his  more  serious  ef- 
forts as  an  author,  whi(  h,  soon  after  his  return  to  Spain, 
ended  in  the'  pastoral  romance  of  ''  Galatea."  For 
prose  pastorals  have  been  a  favorite  form  of  fiction  in 
Portugal  from  the  days  of  the  ''  Menina   e   Mo(j'a 


"  20 


19  "  Well  ilotli  the  .Spanish  hind  the  difTcreiice  have  found  at  ailV  tilllf  for  two  liuiulicd 

''"""'  vear.s  l)('foif 

'Twixt  him  and  Lusian  slave,  the  lowest  of  the  -^    on'mi         ^.      ■          -.r        .1  •      1 

low";—  llie  "JMenina  e Mo^a    is tlie gi'ace- 

an  opinion  which  Cliilde  Harold  found  ('il  li"l<;  fragment  of  a  prose  pastoral,  by 

in  S].ain  when   lie  was  there,  an(i  ('ould  IVrnanhiio  h'll.cyro,  which  dates.from 


Chap.  X.]  THE    CJALATKA.  117 

down  to  our  own  times ;  and  had  already  been  intro- 
duced into  Spanish  literature  by  George  of  Monte- 
mayor,  a  Portuguese  poet  of  reputation,  Avhose  "  Diana 
Enamorada"  and  the  continuation  of  it  by  Gil  Polo 
were,  as  we  know,  favorite  books  with  Cervantes. 

But,  whatever  may  have  been  the  cause,  Cervantes 
now  wrote  all  he  ever  published  of  his  Galatea,  which 
Avas  licensed  on  the  first  of  February,  1584,  and 
printed  in  the  *  December  following.  He  him-  *  90 
self  calls  it  "An  Eclogue,"  and  dedicates  it,  as 
'■'  the  first  fruits  of  his  poor  genius,"  ^^  to  the  son  of 
that  Colonna  under  whose  standard  he  had  served, 
twelve  years  before,  in  the  Levant.  It  is,  in  fact,  a 
prose  pastoral,  after  the  manner  of  Gil  Polo's  ;  and,  as 
he  intimates  in  the  Preface,  "  its  shepherds  and  shep- 
herdesses are  many  of  them  such  only  in  their  dress."  ^'^ 
Indeed,  it  has  always  been  understood  that  .Galatea, 
the  heroine,  is  the  lady  to  whom  he  was  soon  after- 
wards married  ;  that  he  himself  is  Elicio,  the  hero  ; 
and  that  several  of  his  literary  friends,  especially  Luis 
Barahona  de  Soto,  whom  he  seems  always  to  have 
overrated  as  a  poet,  Francisco  de  Figueroa,  Pedro 
Lainez,  and  some  others,  are  disguised  under  the 
names  of  Lauso,  Tirsi,  Damon,  and  similar  pastoral 
appellations.  At  any  rate,  these  personages  of  his 
fable  talk  with  so  much  grace  and  learning,  that  he 
finds  it  necessary  to  apologize  for  their  too  elegant 
discourse.^^ 

about  1500,  and  has  always  been  ad-  of  the  Galatea  were  published  as  early 

mired,  as  indeed  it  deserves  to  be.     It  as  1618. 

gets  its  name  from  the  two  words  with  '-^'^  "  Muchos  de  los  disfrazados  pas- 

whieh  it  begins,  "Small  and  young"  ;  tores  della  lo  eran  solo  en  el  luibito." 
a  quaint  circumstance,  showing  its  ex-  '-^  "  Cuyas  razones  y  argunu'ntos  mas 

treme  popularity  with  those  classes  that  i)arecen  de  ingenios  eutre  libros  y  las 

were  little  in  the  habit  of  referring  to  aulas  criados  qu(i  no  de  aquellos"  que 

books  by  their  formal  titles.  entre    pagizas    cabanas    son    crecidos." 

21  "Estas  primicias  de  mi  corto  in-  (Libro  IV.  Tomo  II.  p.  90.)     This  was 

genio."     Dedicatoria.      Seven   editions  intended,  no  doubt,  at  the  same  time, 


118  THE    GALATEA.  [Peiiioi.  II. 

Like  other  works  of  the  same  sort,  the  Galatea  is 
founded  on  an  affectjition  which  can  never  be  success- 
ful; and  which,  in  tliis  particular  instance,  from  the 
unwise  accumulation  and  involution  of  the  stories  in 
its  fable,  from  the  conceited  metaphysics  with  which  it 
is  disfigured,  and  from  the  })Oor  poetry  profusely  scat- 
tered through  it,  is  more  than  usually  imfortunate. 
Perlia])s  no  one  of  the  many  pastoral  tales  produced  in 
Spain  in  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  fails 
so  much  in  the  tone  it  should  maintain.  Yet  there 
are  traces  both  of  Cervantes's  experience  in  life,  and 
of  his  talent,  in  different  parts  of  it.  Some  of  the  tales, 
like  that  of  Sileno,  in  the  second  and  third  books,  are 
intere.sting ;  others,  like  Timbrio's  capture  by  the 
Moors,  in  the  fifth  book,  remind  us  of  his  own  adven- 
tures and  sufferings ;  while  yet  one,  at  least,  that  of 
Rosaura   and    Grisaldo,   in  the   fourth  book,   is   quite 

emancipated  from  pastoral  conceits  and  fancies. 
*  100    In  all  *  we  have  passages  marked  with  his  rich 

and  flowing  style,  though  never,  perhaps,  with 
Avhat  is  most  peculiar  to  his  genius.  The  inartificial 
texture  of  the  whole,  and  the  confusion  of  Christianity 
and  mythology,  almost  inevitable  in  such  a  A\'ork,  are 
its  most  obvious  defects ;  though  nothing,  perhaps,  is 
more  incongruous  than  the  representation  of  that 
sturdy  old  soldier  and  formal  statesman,  Diego  de 
Mendoza,  as  a  lately  deceased  shepherd.-^ 

as  a  c:oin]ilini('nt  to  Figvieroa,  etc.  See  ccntuiv,  ami  icpiodiKcd,  with  an  a|i- 
post,  ("hap.  XXXIII.  note  8.  jnopriate  coiichision,  in  a  prose  pa.sto- 
2*  The  chief  actors  in  the  Galatea  lal,  which,  in  the  days  when  Gessner 
visit  the  tomb  of  Mendoza,  in  the  sixth  was  so  ])0]iiilar,  was  irequently  reprint- 
hook,  umler  tin- ^iiidanee  of  a  wise  and  ('(1.  In  this  form  it  is  by  no  means 
gentle  Christian  priest  ;  and  when  there,  without  grace.  Certainly  the  attempt 
Calliope  stiangdy  appears  to  them  and  of  Florian  is  more  successful  than  a 
jironounces  a  tedious  poetical  eulogium  similar  one  made  by  Don  Candido 
on  a  vast  number  of  the  contemporary  Maria  de  Tiigueros,  who  followed  and 
Spanish  poets,  most  of  whom  are  now  used  him  in  Los  Knamorados  o  Galatea, 
forgotten.  The  Galatea  was  aliridged  ec,  Madiid,  17^8. 
bv  Florian,  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth 


f'liAP.   X.]  CEUVANTKS    MAKIIIKI).  119 

But,  when  speaking  thus  shglitingly  of  the  Gahitea, 
we  oun'ht  to  remember  that,  though  it  extends  to  two 


vohunes,  it  is  unfinished,  and  that  ])assages  which  now 
seem  out  of  proportion  or  iniintelhgible  might  have 
their  meaning,  and  might  be  found  appropriate,  if  the 
second  part,  which  Cervantes  liad  perlKvps  written,  and 
which  he  continued  to  talk  of  pubhshing  till  a  few 
days  before  his  death,^^  had  ever  appeared.  And 
certainly,  as  we  make  up  our  judgment  on  its  merits, 
we  are  bound  to  bear  in  mind  his  own  touching  words,, 
when  he  represents  it  as  found  by  the  barber  and 
curate  in  Boii  Quixote's  library.^-'  ""-But  what  book 
is  the  next  one  ? "  said  the  curate.  'The  Galatea  of 
Miguel  de  Cervantes,'  replied  the  barber.  '  This 
Cervantes,'  said  the  curate, '  has  been  a  great  friend  of 
mine  these  many  years ;  and  I  know  that  he  is  more 
skilled  in  sorrows  than  in  verse.  His  book  is  not 
without  happiness  in  the  invention ;  it  proposes  some- 
thing, but  finishes  nothing.  So  we  must  wait  for  the 
second  part,  which  he  promises ;  for  perhaps  he  will 
then  obtain  the  favor  that  is  now  denied  him ;  and,  in 
the  mean  time,  my  good  gossip,  keep  it  locked  up  at 
home.'  " 

If  the  story  be  true  that  he  wrote  the  Galatea 
to  win  *  the  favor  of  his  lady,  his  success  may  *  101 
have  been  the  reason  why  he  was  less  inter- 
ested to  finish  it ;  for,  almost  immediately  after  the 
appearance  of  the  first  part,  he  was  married,  Decem- 
ber 12,  1584,  to  a  lady  of  a  good  family  in  Esquivias, 
a  village  near  Madrid.^'     The  pecuniary  arrangements 

^  In  tlu!  Dedication  to   "  Pcisilcs  y  tiln(^s  it  is  to  i)r;ii.s(' its  wines.     Tlii' first 

Sigismunda,"  1616,  April  19,  only  four  is  in  tlu;  "(Uicvadc  Salanianca"  (t'onie- 

days  before  his  death.  <lias.  1749,  Toin.    II.  i*.   aiH),   and  the 

'■^^  Parte  Primera,  cap.  6.  last  is  in   the  I'lologo  to    "  Pensiles  y 

"  He  allndes,  I  think,   but  twice  in  SicrisTniindn,"   tliou-jrli  in   the  latter  he 

all  his  work.s  to   Ks(iuivias  ;  and  both  sjii-aks  m'so  nf  its  "  ilustres  linages." 


120  CEUVAXTES    AVHITES    FOR    THE    STAGE.     [I'kim.ii.  IT. 

consequent  on  the  marriage,  wliicli  have  heen  ])u))- 
lished,'^*^  show  that  hoth  parties  were  poor;  and  the 
(jahitea  intimates  that  Cervantes  had  a  formidable 
Portuguese  rival,  who  was,  at  ojie  time,  nearly  success- 
ful in  winning  his  In-ide.-'  But,  whether  the  course  of 
his  love  ran  smooth  before  marriage  or  not.  his  wed- 
ded life,  for  above  thirty  years,  seems  to  have  been 
haj)py  ;  and  his  widow,  at  her  death,  desired  to  be 
buried  by   iiis  side. 

Jn  order  to  sup|)ort  his  family,  he  pro])abiy  lived 
much  at  Madricl,  wdi^r^L-we-k-nrnv  he  was  fimiUar  with 
several  contemporary  poets,  such  as  Jpan  Rufo,  Pedro 
de  Padilla,  and  others,  whom,  with  his  inherent  good- 
nature, he  praises  constantly  in  his  later  works,  and 
often  unreasonably.  From  the  same  motive,  too,  and 
])erhaps  ])artly  in  consequence  of  these  intimacies, 
lie  now  undertook  to  gain  some  portion  of  his  sub- 
sistence by  authorship,  turning  away  from  the  life  of 
iidventure  to  which  he  had  earlier  been  attracted. 

His  first  efforts  in  this  way  were  for  the  stage,  which 
natm-ally  ])resented  strong  inducements  for  one  who 
was  earl>-  fond  of  dramatic  representations,  and  who 
was  now  in  serious  want  of  such  immediate  profit  as 
the  theatre  sometimes  yields.  The  drama,  howtever,  in 
the  time  of  Cervantes,  was  rude  and  unformed.  He 
tells  us,  as  we  have  already  noticed,  that  he  had  wit- 
nessed its  beginnings  in  the  time  of  Lope  de 
^102  Rueda  and  *  Naharro,*^  which  must  have  Ijeen 
before  he  went  to  Italy,  and  when,  irom  his 
<lescriptioii  of  its  dresses  and  apparatus,  we  ])lainly  see 

'■**  Sec   tlic  cimI   of   I'clliccr's    LifV  of  liis  fathei's  will,   who  died  while  Ccr- 

<;<;!•  van tcs,    jii'clixcd    to    his   edition   of  vantes    himself    was    a    slave    in    Al- 

Don  Quixote  (Tom.  I.   j>.  ccv).     Tlieie  oiers. 

.seems  to  have  heen  an  (earlier  eonnec-  -'"  At  the  end  of  the  .sixth  book, 

tion   between   the   family  of  Clervaiites  *'   I'l^iloRo  al  Leetov,   ]>refi.\ed  to  Ids 

and   that   of  his  bride  ;  for  the  lady's  eii^ht  ])lays  and  eight   Knticmese.s,    Mu- 

ijiother   had   been    named   executrix  of  drid,  1015,  4to. 


C'liAi'.  X.]        CEltVANTE.S    WHITES    FOR    THE    STA(;E.  llii 

that  tlie  theatre  was  not  80  well  understood  and  iiian- 
a<i:ed  as  it  is  now  by  strolling  companies  and  in  puppet- 
shows.  From  this  lunnble  condition,  which  the  efforts 
made  by  Bernuidez  and  Argensola,  Virues,  La  Cueva, 
and  their  contemporaries,  had  not  much  ameliorated, 
Cervantes  undertook  to  raise  it ;  and  he  succeeded  so 
lar  that,  thirty  years  afterwards,  he  thought  his  success 
of  sufficient  consequence  frankly  to  boast  of  it.'^^ 

But  it  is  curious  to  see  the  methods  he  deemed 
it  expedient  to  adopt  for  such  a  purpose,  lie  reduced, 
he  says,  the  number  of  acts  from  five  to  three  ;  but 
this  is  a  slight  matter,  and,  though  he  does  not  seem  to 
be  aware  of  the  fact,  it  had  been  done  long  })etbre  by 
Avendaiio.  He  claims  to  have  introduced  phantasms 
of  the  imagination,  or  allegorical  personages,  like  War, 
Disease,  and  Famine ;  but,  besides  that  Juan  de  la 
Cueva  had  already  done  this,  it  was,  at  best,  nothing 
uj^ore  in  either  of  them  than  reviving  the  forms  of  the 
old  religious  shows.  And,  finally,  though  this  is  not 
one  of  the  grounds  on  which  he  himself  places  his 
dramatic  merits,  he  seems  to  have  endeavored  in  his 
plays,  as  in  his  other  works,  to  turn  his  personal 
travels  and  sufferings  to  account,  and  thus,  uncon- 
sciously, became  an  imitator  of  some  of  those  who 
were  among  the  earliest  inventors  of  such  represen- 
tations in  modern  Europe. 

But,  wdth  a  genius  like  that  of  Cervantes,  even 
changes  or  attempts  as  crude  as  these  were  not  without 
results.  He  wrote,  as  he  tells  us  with  characteristic 
carelessness,  twenty  or  thirty  pieces  which  were  re- 
ceived with  applause  ;  —  a  number  greater  than  can 
be  with  certainty  attributed  to  any  preceding  Spanish 
author,  and  a  success  before  quite  unknown.     None  of 

31  Adjuiita  al  PiUiiaso,  first •iniiitcd  in  1014  ;  ami  the  Tiolugo  last  cited. 


122  THE    TKATO    DE    ARGEL.  [PKUinD  II. 

these  pieces  were  printed  at  the  time,  but  he  has  given 
lis  the  names  of  nine  of  them,  two  of  which 
*  103  were  discovered  *  in  1782,  and  printed,  for 
the  first  time,  in  1784."''  The  rest,  it  is  to  be 
feared,  are  irrecoverably  lost ;  and  among  them  is  "  La 
Coiifusa,"  which,  long  after  Lope  de  Vega  had  given 
its  iiual  character  to  the  })roper  national  drama,  Cer- 
vantes fondly  declared  was  still  one  of  the  very  best 
of  the  class  to  which  it  belonged  ;  *^  a  judgment  which 
the  present  age  might  perhaps  confirm,  if  the  propor- 
tions and  finish  of  the  drama  he  preferred  were  equal 
to  the  strength  and  originality  of  the  two  that  have 
been  I'cscued. 

The  first  of  these  is  "  El  Trato  de  Argel,"  or,  as  he 
elsewhere  calls  it,  "Los  Tratos  de  Argel,"  which  may 
be  translated  Life,  or  Manners,  in  Algiers.  It  is  a 
drama,  slight  in  its  plot,  and  so  imperfect  in  its  dia- 
logue, that,  in  these  respects,  it  is  little  l)cttcr  than 
.some  of  the  old  eclogues  on  which  the  earlier  theatre 
was  founded.  His  pui'pose.  indeed,  seems  to  have  been 
simply  to  set  before  a  S])anish  audience  such  a  picture 
of  the  sufferings  of  the  Christian  captives  at  Algiers 
as  his  own  experience  would  justiiy.  and  such  as 
might  ^vell  awaken  sympathy  in  a  countrj'  w liich  had 
furnished  a  deplorable  number  of  the  victims.  He, 
therefore,  is  little  careful  to  construct  a  regular  plot,  if, 
after  all,  he  were  aware  that  such  a  ])lot  was  important; 
but  instead  of  it  he  gives  us  a  stiff  and  unnatui-al  love- 
story,  which  he  thought  i>'ood  enouiih  to  be  used  ai-ain. 
both  in  one  of  his  later  plays  and  in  one  of  his  tales  ;'"^ 
and  then  trusts  the  main  success  of  the  piece  to  its 
episodical   sketches. 

*^  They  arc  in  tlu'  same  voliiiin'  with  **  AdjuntaalParnaso,  p.  139,  ed.  1784. 

till-  "  yi:if,'(;  al  Panuiso,"  Madrid,  1784,  ^   In  tin-  "  Hafios  di!  Argel,"  and  tho 

Svo.  "Aniantc  Liberal." 


Chap.  X.j  THE    TILVTO    DE    AlIGEL.  123 

Of  these  sketches,  several  are  striking.  First,  we 
have  a  scene  between  Cervantes  himself  and  two  of 
his  fellow-captives,  in  which  they  are  jeered  at  as 
slaves  and  Christians  by  tha  Moors,  and  in  wliich  they 
give  an  account  of  the  niiirtyrdom  in  Algiers  of  a 
Spanish  priest,  which  was  subsequent!}-  used  by  Lope 
de  Vega  in  one  of  his  dramas,  and  which  was  founded 
in  ffict.  Next,  we  have  the  attempt  of  Pedro  Alvarez 
to  escape  to  Oran,  which  is,  no  doubt,  taken  from  the 
similar  attempt  of  Cervantes,  and  has  all  the 
spirit  of  a  drawing  from  life.  *And,  in  dif-  *  104 
ferent  places,  we  have  two  or  three  painful 
scenes  of  the  public  sale  of  slaves,  and  especially  of 
little  children,  which  he  must  often  have  witnessed, 
and  which  again  Lope  de  Vega  thought  worth  borrow- 
ing, when  he  had  risen,  as  Cervantes  calls  it,  to  the 
monarchy  of  the  scene. ^^  The  whole  play  is  divided 
into  five  Jornada s,  or  acts,  and  written  in  octaves,  redon- 
dUIaSy  terza  riuia,  blank  verse,  and  almost  all  the  other 
measures  known  to  Spanish  poetry  ;  while  among  the 
persons  of  the  drama  are  strangely  scattered,  as  prom- 
inent actors,  Necessity,  Opportunity,  a  Lion,  and  a 
Demon. 

^  The  "Esclavos  en  Argel"  of  Lope  by  Cervantes,  (pp.  298-305,)  is  made 
is  found  in  his  Comedias,  Tom.  XXV.,  a  principal  dramatic  point  in  the  third 
((^aragocja,  1647,  4to,  pp.  231 -260,)  and  Jornada  of  Lope's  play,  where  the  exe- 
,shows  that  he  borrowed  much  too  freely  cution  occurs,  in  the  most  revolting 
from  the  play  of  Cervantes,  which,  it  form,  on  the  stage  (p.  263).  The  truth 
should  be  remembered,  had  not  then  is,  that  this  execution  really  occurred 
been  printed,  so  that  he  must  have  used  at  Algiers  in  1577,  while  Cervantes  was 
a  manuscript.  The  scenes  of  the  sale  there,  and  that  he  first  used  it  and  then 
of  the  Christian  children,  (pp.  249,  250,)  Lope  copied  from  him.  A  full  account 
and  the  scenes  between  the  same  chil-  of  it  may  be  found  in  Haedo,  (Topo- 
dren  after  one  of  them  had  become  a  gi-afia,  ft".  179atol83a,)and  isoneof  the 
Mohammedan,  (pp.  259,  260,)  as  they  most  curious  illustrations  extant  of  the 
stand  in  Lope,  are  taken  from  the  cor-  relations  subsisting  between  the  Span- 
responding  scenes  in  Cervantes  (pp.  iards  and 'their  hated  enemies.  The 
316-323,  and  364-366,  ed.  1784).  borrowings  of  Lope  from  the  play  of 
Much  of  th(^  story,  and  passages  in  Cervantes  are,  however,  more  plain  else- 
other  parts  of  the  play,  are  also  bor-  where  in  his  "  E.sclavos  de  Argel "  tlian 
rowed.  The  martyrdom  of  the  Valen-  in  the  case  of  this  shocking  martyr- 
cian  priest,  wliich  is  merely  described  dom. 


124  THE    TEATO    DE    AIIGEL.  [I'evaod  U. 

Yet,  notwithstanding  the  unhappy  confusion  and 
carelessness  all  this  implies,  there  are  passages  in  the 
Trato  de  Argel  which  are  highly  poetical.  Aurelio, 
the  hero,  —  who  is  a  Christian  captive  affianced  to 
another  captive  named  Sylvia,  —  is  loved  by  Zara,  a 
Moorish  lad}^  whose  confidante,  Fa'tima,  makes  a  wild 
incantation,  in  order  to  obtain  means  to  secure  the 
gratification  of  her  mistress's  love  ;  the  result  of  which 
is  that  a  demon  rises  and  places  in  her  power  Neces- 
sity and  Opportunity.  These  two  immaterial  agencies 
are  then  sent  by  her  upon  the  stage,  and  —  invisible 
to  Aurelio  himself,  but  seen  by  the  spectators  —  tempt 
him  with  evil  thoughts  to  yield  to  the  seductions  of  the 
fair  unbeliever.^^  AVlien  they  are  gone,  he  thus  ex- 
presses, in  soliloquy,  his  feelings  at  the  idea  of  hav- 
ing nearly  yielded  :  — 

*  105  *  Aurelio,  whither  goest  tlioii  ?     Where,  0  where, 

Now  tend  thine  erring  steps  ?     Who  guides  thee  on 
Is,  then,  thy  fear  of  God  so  small  that  thus, 
To  satisfy  mad  fantasy's  desires, 
Thou  rushest  headlong  ?     Can  light  and  easy 
Opportunity,  with  loose  solicitation, 
Persuade  thee  thus,  and  overcome  thy  soul. 
Yielding  thee  up  to  love  a  prisoner  ? 
Is  this  tlie  lofty  thought  and  firm  resolve 
'  In  which  thou  once  wast  rooted,  to  resist 
Offence  and  sin,  although  in  torments  shai-j) 
Tliy  days  should  end  and  earthly  martyrdom  ? 
So  soon  hast  thou  offended,  to  the  winds 
Thy  true  and  loving  hopes  cast  forth, 
And  j'ielded  up  thy  soul  to  low  desire  ? 
Away  with  such  wild  thoughts,  of  basest  birth 
And  basest  lineage  sprung  !     Such  witchery 
Of  foul,  unworthy  love  shall  by  a  love 

86  Cervantes,  no  .loubt,  valued  him-  liciircspntaiulo  los  dos  _ 

If  .1  •  ,.     •   1  ,,•  ,  I)c  su  liiic'i)  Oenio  V  nial  Genio 

self  U])on   these    iinmatenal   agencies;  KxtcTiunncnte  la  lid, 

and,  after  his  time,  tliey  became  com-  Que  arde  interior  en  su  pecho. 

7non  on  the  Spanish  stage.     Calderon,  ,     .     ,    ,. 

;..  v,;,.  <ir<™„  15,.,'.,,.;.^.,  ,l„  T«.,  "  /r>«.r.Q  His  (rood  and  evil  genius  bodied  forth, 

in  his     Gran  I  nncipe  de  Fe/,     (Come-  ^^  ^f;^^  ^  j^j^  ^^^  ^^  ^p^,„  ^^^^^ 

dias,  Madrid,  1760,    4tO,    lom.    111.    J).  The  hot  encounter  hiiMen  in  his  heart. 

.389,)  thus  explains  two,  whom  he  in- 

tro(luces,  in  words  that  may  be  applied 

to  those  of  Cervantes  :  — 


'"•VI'.  X.]  THE    NUMANCIA.  12-J 

All  imrc  111'  broke  1     A  ClH-i.sti;\ii  soul  is  mine, 
And  as  a  Christian's  shall  my  life  be  marked  ;  — 
Nor  gifts,  nor  iiromises,  nor  cunning  art, 
Shall  from  the  God  1  serve  my  spiiit  turn. 
Although  the  path  I  trace  lead  on  to  death  !  ^^ 

The  conception  of  this  passage,  and  of  the  scene 
preceding-  it,  is  certainly  not  dramatic,  though  it  is 
one  of  those  on  which,  from  the  introduction  of  spirit- 
ual agencies,  Cervantes  valued  himself  But  neither 
is  it  without  stirring  poetry.  Like  the  rest  of  the 
piece,  it  is  a  mixture  of  personal  feelings  and  fancies, 
struggling  with  an  ignorance  of  the  projjer  principles 
of  the  drama,  and  with  the  rude  elements  of  the  thea- 
tre in  its  author's  time.  He  calls  the  whole  a  Conie- 
cUa ;  but  it  is  neither  a  comedy  nor  a  tragedy.  Like 
the  old  Mysteries,  it  is  rather  an  attempt  to  exhi):»it, 
in  living  show,  a  series  of  unconnected  incidents  ;  for  it 
has  no  properly  constructed  plot,  and,  as  he  honestly 
confesses  afterwards,  it  comes  to  no  proper  conclu- 
sion.'^^ 

The  other  play  of  Cervantes,  that  has  reached 
us  from  *  this  period  of  his  life,  is  founded  on  *  106 
the  trao-ical  fate  of  Numantia,  which  ha  vino;  re- 
sisted  the  Roman  arms  fourteen  years,^^  was  reduced 
by  famine  ;  the  Roman  forces  consisting  of  eighty 
thousand  men,  and  the  Numantian  of  less  than  four 
thousand,  not  one  of  whom  was  found  alive  when  the 

37  Aurelio,  donde  vas?  para  do  nineves  it  worthy  of  him.     But  the  inference  is 

^ir^'Z-F"Z'    '^"n^  ^%^'''^'  not  a  fair  one,   for  Cervantes  <lid   not 
Con  tan  poco  tenior  de  Dios  te  atreves  .         ,  .      ..^      '         .  ,  , 

A  contentartuloca  fantasia?  etc.  \mnt  his    Nuniancia,    and  yet   he  cer- 

Jornaday.  tainly  thought  well  of  it.     i).  Quixote, 

38  Y  aqui  da  este  trato  fin,  j  j     ^'g 

Que  no  lo  tiene  e\  de  Argel,  <vt  /<  x  ^        o   •    •  <•  ti,„ 

"   '  **  Cervantes  makes  Scipio  say  or  the 

is  the  jest  with  wliich  he  ends  his  other  -siege,  on  his  arrival,  — 
play  on  the  same  subject,  printed  thirty  Diez  y  seis  aSo.s  son  y  ma.s  pasados. 
years   after  the  representation   of   this  The  true  length  of  the  contest  with  Nu- 
one.   -  Clemeucin  (Notas  a  D.  Quixote,  mantia  was,  however,  fourteen  years  ; 
III.  253,   254)  says  Cervantes  did  not  .and  the  length  of  the  last  siege  four- 
print  this  play  liecause  he  did  not  deem  teen  months. 


126  THE    XUMAXCIA.  [I^;uini.  11. 

conquerors  entered  the  city.^*^  Cervantes  probably 
chose  this  subject  in  consequence  of  the  patriotic  recol- 
lections it  awakened,  and  still  continues  to  awaken,  in 
the  minds  of  his  countrymen  ;  and,  for  the  same  rea- 
son, he  filled  his  drama  chiefly  with  the  public  and  pri- 
vate horrors  consequent  on  the  self-devotion  of  the 
Numantians. 

It  is  divided  into  four  Jornadm,  and,  like  the  Trato 
de  x\rgel,  is  written  in  a  great  variety  of  measures ; 
the  ancient  redondilla  being  preferred  for  the  more 
active  portions.  Its  dramatis  pcvHomc  are  no  fewer  than 
forty  in  number  ;  and  among  them  are  Spahi  and  the 
River  Duero,  a  Dead  Body,  War,  Sickness,  Famine, 
and  Fame  ;  the  last  personage  speaking  the  Prologue. 
The  action  opens  with  Scipio's  arrival.  He  at  once 
reproaches  the  Roman  army,  tliat,  in  so  long  a  time, 
they  had  not  conquered  so  small  a  l)()(lv  of  Spaniards, 
—  as  Cervantes  always  patriotically  calls  the  Nu- 
mantians,—  and  then  announces  that  they  must  now 
be  subdued  by  Famine.  Spain  enters  as  a  fair  ma- 
tron, and  aware  of  what  awaits  her  devoted  city,  in- 
vokes the    Duero  in  two  ])oetical    octaves.^^  which  the 

river  answers  in  person,  accompanied  by  three 
*  107     *  of  his  tributary  streams,  but  gives  no   hope 

to  Numantia,  except  that  the  Goths,  the  Con- 
stable of  Bourbon,  and   the  Duke  of  Alva,  shall  one 

*^   It  is  well   to   read,  witll  the  "  Xu-  Q"e  prestcs  a  mis  asyK-ros  lampntos 

n^ncia"  Of  Cervantes  the  account  Of     ^'™:::,;;^s^:!r:;^  i:!:'!^^;;;;;^;' 

Horus,    (hplt.    11.    18,)   and    especially  Suplicote  que  en  nada  te  detengaii : 

tha't   in   Mariana,    (Lib.    III.   C.   6-10,)  .'^i  tu  con  tus  cnntinos  crecimientos 

tlie  latter  being  the  proud  Spanish  ver-  J^-^*°'*,  «•''•»''  Komanos  no  te  venga«, 

.  .              o           1                i  (  crrnao  veo  ya  <iuauniier  caniino 

Slon  of  it.  A  la  salud  del  pueblo  Numantino. 

*i  Iiuero  pentil,  que,  con  torcida*  vueltas,  Jorn.  I.  So.  2. 

IIumede<'c«  irnm  parte  de  mi  seno,  -i.      i        ii    i           i  i    i    ^i     ^    ii           x 

Ansi  en  tus  apna«  siempre  vea«  envueltas  It   should    b(^   added    that    these   two 

Arenim  de  oro  qual  d  Tajo  ameno,  oi'taves  occur  at  the  end  of  a  somewhat 

Y  ansi  las  ninfiw  fiitritiviw  Kuelbix,  tedious  soliloiiUY  of  nine  or  ten  others, 

De  que  est  i  el  Verde  pnido  V  Imsque  Ueno,  „ii       ,.       i-i  n  ^  4.„, 

Venpm  huniildes  A  tux  .-HTua-s  Claras,  •'*  '  of  which  are  really  octave  .stanzas, 

Y  en  ])re»itartc  favor  no  seuu  avanus,  though  not  printed   as  such. 


CuAi.  X.l  THE    NUMANCIA.  127 

clay  avenge  its  fate  on  the  Romans.  This  ends  the 
first  act. 

The  otlier  three  divisions  are  filled  \vith  tlie  hor- 
rors of  the  siege  endured  by  the  unhappy  Nuniantians  ; 
the  anticipations  of  their  defeat  ;  their  sacrifices  and 
prayers  to  avert  it ;  the  unhallowed  incantations  by 
Mhich  a  dead  body  is  raised  to  predict  the  future  ; 
and  the  cruel  sufferings  to  old  and  young,  to  the 
loved  and  lovely,  and  even  to  the  innocence  of  cliild- 
hood,  through  which  the  stern  fate  of  the  city  is 
accomplished.  The  wliole  ends  with  the  voluntary 
immolation  of  those  who  remained  alive  among  the 
starving  inhabitants,  and  the  death  of  a  youth  who 
holds  up  the  keys  of  the  gates,  and  then,  in  presence 
of  the  Roman  general,  throws  himself  headlong  from 
one  of  the  towers  of  the  city;  its  last  self-devoted 
victim. 

In  such  a  story  there  is  no  plot,  and  no  proper 
development  of  anything  like  a  dramatic  action.  But 
the  romance  of  real  life  has  rarely  been  exhibited  on 
the  stage  in  such  bloody  extremity ;  and  still  more 
rarely,  when  thus  exhibited,  has  there  been  so  much 
of  poetical  effect  produced  by  individual  incidents.  In 
a  scene  of  the  second  act,  Marquino,  a  magician,  after 
several  vain  attempts  to  compel  a  spirit  to  re-enter  the 
body  it  had  just  left  on  the  battle-field,  in  order  to 
obtain  from  it  a  revelation  of  the  comino;  fate  of 
the  city,  bursts  forth  indignantly,  and  says :  — 

Rebellious  spirit  !     Back  again  and  fill 
The  form  which,  but  a  few  siiort  hours  ago. 
Thyself  left  tenantless. 

To  which  the  spirit,  re-entering  the  body,  replies :  — 

Restrain  the  finy  of  thy  cruel  power  I 
Enough,  Marqnino  !     0,  enough  of  pain 
I  suffer  ill  those  regions  dark,  below, 


128  THE    NUMANCIA.  [I'Kiiiuu  II. 

"Witlioiit  the  added  tomients  of  thy  spell! 
Thou  art  deluded  if  thou  deem'st  indeed 
That  aught  of  earthly  pleasure  can  repay 
Such  brief  return  to  this  most  wretched  world, 
"Where,  when  1  bai'ely  seem  to  live  again, 
*  108  *  With  urgent  speed  life  harshly  shrinks  away. 

Xay,  rather  dost  thou  bring  a  shuddering  pain  ; 
Since,  on  the  instant,  all-prevailing  death 
Triumphant  reigns  anew,  subduing  life  and  soul ; 
Thus  }-ielding  twice  the  victory  to  my  foe, 
AVho  now,  with  others  of  his  grislj'  crew, 
Obedient  to  thy  will,  and  stung  with  rage, 
Awaits  the  moment  when  shall  be  fulfilled 
Tiie  knowledge  thou  requirest  at  my  hand  ; 
The  knowledge  of  Xumantia's  awfid  fate.*- 

There  is  nothing  of  so  much  dignity  in  the  incantations 
of  Marlowe's  "  Faustus,"  which  Ijelong  to  the  contempo- 
raiy  period  of  the  English  stage  ;  nor  does  even  Shake- 
speare demand  from  us  a  s^inpathy  so  strange  with  the 
mortal  head  reluctantly  rising  to  answer  Macbeth's 
guilty  (jiiestion,  as  Cervantes  makes  us  feel  for  this 
sufiering  spirit,  recalled  to  life  onlv  to  endure  a  second 
time  the  pangs  of  dissolution. 

The  scenes  of  private  and  domestic  affliction  arising 
from  the  pressure  of  famine  are  sometimes  introduced 
witli  unexpected  effect,  especially  one  between  a 
mother  and  her  child,  and  the  following  between 
Morandro,  a  lover,  and  his  mistress,  Lira,  whom  he  now 
sees  wasted  by  hunger,  and  mourning  over  the  univer- 
sal desolation.  She  turns  from  him  to  conceal  her 
sufferings,  and   he  says,  tenderly, — 

Nay,  Lira,  haste  not,  liaste  not  thus  away  ; 
But  let  mc  feel  an  instant's  space  tlie  joy 

42  ^jarqiiinn.  Que  yii  mc  vii  faltando  presiirosa: 

.,  u  11  1        1  '      „,  „»„  Ant<'S,  imM-iiusii!' un  dolor  epqiiivo, 

Alma  rehelrto.  vuelvo  al  aposento  ^  J^^ 

Que  poa..  honu.  ha  desmupa^te.  Triunfar,.  .le  mi  vida  y  de  ini  alma  ; 

El  Ciierpo.  >Ii  enemijro  tendri  doblada  )ialma, 

Tesc  la  fiiria  del  ripor  violento  El  cual,  ccm  otros  del  escuro  bando 

Tuyo.     Marquino,  tiaste,  tri(<te,  baste,  De  los  que  son  supetos  4  atrunrilarte, 

Ijaque  yo  paso  en  la  repon  escura,  KstJ  <'on  rabia  en  torno,  a(iui  csperando 

Sin  que  tii  crezras  nuu*  mi  dcKventura.  A  (|uc  acabe,  Maniuino,  de  infnniiarte 

Enf!.iiiast«,  si  piensas  que  recibo  Del  lamentable  fin,  del  mal  nefando, 

Contcnto  de  volver  4  ertta  |)enosa,  Que  de  Numancia  puedo  a.«etrurdrte. 

Mitiera  y  corta  vida,  que  ahora  vivo,  Jorn.  II.  Sc.  2. 


Chap.  X.]  THE    XUMANXIA.  129 

AVliicli  life  can  give  even  here,  amidst  grim  death. 

Let  but  mine  eyes  an  instant's  space  behold 

Thy  beauty,  and,  amidst  such  bitter  woes. 

Be  ghuhlened  !     O  my  grntlc  Lira  1  —  thou, 

Tliat  dwell'st  forever  in  sueli  harmony 
*  Amidst  the  thoughts  that  throng  my  fantasy,  *,109 

That  suffering  gro\As  gloi'ious  for  thy  sake  ;  — 

What  ails  thee,  love?     On  what  are  bent  thy  thoughts. 

Chief  honor  oi'  mine  own  ? 
Lira.  1  think,  how  fast 

All  happiness  is  gliding  both  from  thee 

And  me  ;  and  that,  before  this  cruel  war 

Can  find  a  close,  my  life  must  find  one  too. 
Morandro.       What  say'st  thou,  love  ? 
Lira.  That  hunger  so  prevails 

Within  me,  that  it  soon  nmst  triumph  quite, 

And  break  my  life's  thin  thread.     What  wedded  love 

Canst  thou  expect  from  me  in  such  extremity,  — 

Looking  for  death  ])erchance  in  one  short  hour  ? 

With  famine  died  my  bi'other  yesterday  ; 

With  famine  sank  my  mother  ;  and  if  still 

I  struggle  on,  't  is  but  my  youth  that  bears 

Me  up  against  such  rigors  horrible. 

But  sustenance  is  now  so  many  days 

Withheld,  that  all  my  weakened  powers 

Contend  in  vain. 
Morandro.  0  Lira  !  dry  thy  tears, 

And  let  but  mine  bemoan  thy  bitter  gi'iefs  ! 

For  though  fierce  famine  press  thee  merciless, 

Of  famine,  while  I  live,  thou  .shalt  not  die. 

Fosse  deep  and  wall  of  strength  shall  be  o'erleaped, 

And  death  confronted,  and  yet  warded  off  ! 

The  bread  the  bloody  Roman  eats  to-day 

Shall  from  his  lips  be  torn  and  placed  in  thine  ;  — 

My  arms  shall  hew  a  passage  for  thy  life  ;  — 

For  death  is  nauglit  when  I  behold  thee  thus. 

Food  thou  .shalt  have,  in  s])ite  of  Roman  power. 

If  but  these  hands  are  such  as  once  they  were. 
Lira.  Thou  .speak'st,  Morandro,  with  a  loving  heart ;  — 

But  food  thus  bought  with  peril  to  thy  life 

Would  lose  its  savor.     All  that  thou  couldst  snatch 

In  such  an  onset  must  be  small  indeed. 

And  lather  cost  thy  life  than  rescue  mine. 

Enjoy,  then,  love,  thy  fresh  and  glowing  youth  ! 

Thy  life  imports  the  city  more  than  mine  ; 

Thr  a  canst  defend  it  from  this  cruel  foe, 

Wliilst  I,  a  maiden,  weak  and  faint  at  heart. 

An  worthless  all.     So,  gentle  love,  dismiss  this  thought ; 
VOL.  II.  y 


loO 


THE    NL'Mx^NCIA. 


[I'Kiaoii  II. 


I  taste  no  food  bought  at  smli  (lc;i,i!y  price. 

And  tliough  a  few  slioit,  wi-eiched  diiys  thou  couldst 

Pi'Otect  this  life,  still  famiiie,  at  the  last, 

JIust  end  us  all. 

110         *  Maraud ro.  In  vain  tliou  strivest,  love, 

To  hinder  nie  the  way  my  will  :dike 
And  destiny  invite  and  draw  nif  on. 
Pray  rather,  therefore,  to  the  gods  above, 
That  they  i-eturu  me  home,  laden  with  spoils, 
Thy  sufieriugs  and  mine  to  mitigate. 

Lira.  Monindro,  gentle  friend,  0,  go  not  foith  ! 

For  heie  before  me  gleams  a  hostile  sword. 
Red  with  thy  blood  !     0,  venture,  venture  not 
Such  fierce  extremity,  light  of  my  life  ! 
For  if  the  sally  be  A\ith  dangers  thick, 
Jlore  dread  is  the  return. ''^ 


<3  Hloranilro. 

No  Tayas  tan  ile  corrida. 

Lira  ,_dexaiiH'  gozar 

Del  bitii  quo  inc  iniede  dar 

Ell  la  iiiiurte  alffrrc  vida: 

Di'xa,  (luo  niireii  uiis  ojos 

L'u  rato  tu  liLrmosura, 

I'ues  tiiuto  lui  desvcntura 

Se  eutretioue  en  wis  enojos. 

0  dulcc  Lira,  que  suenas 

Contiuo  en  mi  fantasia 

Con  tan  suave  liarniouia 

Que  vuelve  en  irloria  mis  penas! 

Que  tieiies  '.     (iue  est  s  jiensando, 

Gloria  de  mi  peiisainientof 

Lira. 
I'ienpo  como  mi  contento 

Y  el  tuyo  se  va  acabando, 

Y  no  sera  su  homicida 

El  cerco  de  nuestra  tierra, 
Que  primero  que  la  guerra 
Se  me  aeabar^  la  vida. 

Moranilri). 
Que  dices,  bien  de  mi  alma? 

Lira. 
Que  me  tiene  tal  la  hambre, 
Que  de  mi  vital  estambre 
Llevar.i  jiresto  la  iialma. 
Que  t.ilamo  lias  de  esjierar 
De  quien  est  i  en  tal  extremo. 
Que  tu  ase^uro  que  temo 
Ant<'s  de  una  liora  esjiirar? 
-Mi  herniaiio  aver  cspirj 
De  la  hambre  fatigado, 

Y  mi  iiiadre  ya  ha  acabado 
Que  la  hambre  la  acab  i. 

Y  si  la  hambre  y  su  fucrza 
No  ha  rendido  mi  saliid, 
Es  jiorque  la  juventud 
rmitni  su  riffor  se  esfuerza. 
I'ero  como  lia  tantos  dias 
Que  no  le  hu^o  <lefensa, 
No  piieilen  contra  sn  ofenBa 
has  debik'H  fuerzas  mias. 

Moraiulro. 
KnjuiKi,  Lira,  los  ojos, 
Dexa  que  Ins  trisfes  mios 
S;  viielvan  corrientes  rio« 
Nacidos  de  tus  enojos  ; 


Y  aunque  la  hambre  ofendida 
'J'c  tciifra  tan  sin  eompas, 

De  hambre  no  nidiiras 
Mientra-s  yo  tuviei(>  vida. 
Y^o  me  ofrezco  de  .saltar 
El  foso  y  el  muro  fiiert«, 

Y  entrar  jior  la  inisina  niuerte 
Para  la  tu\  a  (\scusar. 

EI  pan  que  el  Komano  toca, 
Sin  que  el  temor  me  destruya, 
Lo  quitare  de  la  suya 
I'ai-a  ponerlo  en  tu  boca. 
Con  mi  brazo  hare  earrera 
A  tu  vida  y  a  mi  niuerte, 
Porque  mas  me  mata  el  verte, 
Seiiora,  de  e.sii  manem. 
Yo  te  traere  de  comer 
A  pesar  de  los  Konianos, 
Si  ya  son  estas  mis  nianos 
Las  misnias  que  solian  ser. 

Lira. 
Ilablas  como  enamorado, 
Mowndro,  iiei-o  no  es  justo, 
Que  ya  tome  jrusto  el  gusto 
Con  tu  peligid  coni|>rado. 
Poco  ])odiM  siistentarme 
(iiial(iuier  robo  (|ue  haras, 
.\miqiic  mas  cicrto  hallaras 
Kl  peiilcrte  <nie  panamie. 
(lo/.i  de  tu  mocedad 
En  fresca  edad  y  <Tecida, 
<iue  mas  importa  tu  vida 
Que  la  mia,  ^i  la  <iudad. 
Tu  podr.'.s  bien  defendella, 
De  la  enemiga  a.^echanza, 
Que  no  la  tiaca  inijanza 
Desta  tjiii  triste  doiicella. 
Ansi  que,  mi  dulce  amor, 
Despiile  ese  ]ien.>-amiento, 
Que  yo  no  quier(>  sustento 
Oanado  con  tu  sudor. 
Que  aun(|iu!  jmedes  alargar 
Mi  niuerte  por  aljru  i  dia, 
Ksta  hambre  que  po.-fia 
En  tin  nos  ha  de  aca  jar. 

Mnranilro. 
En  vano  tralKy.-uj,  Lira, 
De  impidinne  este  cnniino, 
Do  mi  volunt.-id  y  signo 
All.i  me  convida  y  lira. 


CiiAT.  X.]  THE    NUMANCIA.  131 

*  lie  persists,  and,  accompanied  hy  a  fiiitliful  *  111 
friend,  penetrates  into  the  Roman  camp  and 
obtains  bread.  In  the  contest  lie  is  wounded  ;  but 
still,  forcing  his  way  back  to  the  city,  by  the  mere 
energy  of  despair,  he  gives  to  Lira  the  food  he  has 
won,  wet  with  his  own  blood,  and  then  falls  dead  at 
her  feet. 

A  very  high  authority  in  dramatic  criticism  sj^ieaks 
of  the  Niunancia  as  if  it  were  not  merely  one  of  the 
more  distinguished  efforts  of  the  early  Spanish  thea- 
tre, but  one  of  the  most  striking  exhibitions  of  mod- 
ern poetry.*^  It  is  not  probable  that  this  opinion  will 
prevail.  Yet  the  whole  piece  has  the  merit  of  great 
originality,  and,  in  several  of  its  parts,  succeeds  in 
awakenino:  strouir  emotions ;    so  that,  notwithstandino- 

~  <-J  7  7  C5 

the  want  of  dramatic  skill  and  adaptation,  it  may  still 
be  cited  as  a  proof  of  its  author's  high  poetical  talent, 
and,  in  the  actual  conditio^  of  the  Spanish  stage  wdien 
he  wrote,  as  a  bold  and  noble  effort  to  raise  it. 

T.-.  ro^rarAs  entre  tanto  of  it  llimself  ;   but  still  COUples   it   with 

rolr  d^S  ^U:  S:.S"  well-co.si.l.red  plays  of  Lope  de  Vega, 

Tu  iiiiscria  y  mi  quebranto.  Gaspar  ds  Avila,  and  i  raiicisco  Tan-ega. 

Don  Quixote,  Parte  I.  c.  48. 
Lira.  There  is  a  very  curious  contract  be- 
Morandro,  mi  dulce  amigo,  tween  Cervantes  and  Rodrigo  de  Osorio 
No  vayas,  que  se  me  antoja,  an  "  Autor  de  Coniedias,"  dated  at  Se- 
^esplda  rfnlmir^'^  -^le.  5  September,  1592,  in  which  Cer- 
No  hagas  esta  Jornada,  vantes  engages  to  write  SIX  plays,  tor  each 
Morandro,  bien  de  mi  vida,  of  which  he  is  to  receive  fifty  ducats,  pro- 
Q.ue  si  es  mala  la  salida,  vided  it  should  be  "  una  de  las  mcjores 
Ez  muy  peer  la  tornada.  , .  <  .     i       ^  i . 
Jem.  III.  Sc.  1.  coniedias  que  se  han  representado  en  Ls- 
paiia  "  ;   otherwise   nothing.      Whether 
There    is,    in    this    scene,    a  tone  of  these  jdays  were  ever  written,  or  wheth- 
geiitle,  broken-hearted  self-devotion  on  er,  if  they  were  written,  they  wen;  the 
the   part  of   Lira,    awakening  a  fierce  six  mentioned  in  the  "  Adjunta  al  Par- 
despair  in  her  lover,   that  seems  to  me  naso"  in  1614,  we  shall  probal)ly  never 
very  true  to  nature.     The  last  words  of  know.      (Nuevos  Documento.s,  Sevilla, 
Lira,  in  the  passage  translated,  have,  I  1864,  pp.  26-29.)     The  pcn-iod  referred 
think,  much  beauty  in  the  original.  to — 1592— was   apparently   the   one 
**  A.  W.  von  Schlegel,  Vorlesungen  when  he  was  much  occupied  and  vexed 
liber  dramatische  Kuiist  und  Literatur,  with  collecting  provisions  for  the  gov- 
Heidelberg,  1811,  Tom.  II.  Abt.  ii.  p.  ernment  in  Andalusia,  and  with  other 
345.     Cervantes  speaks  more  modestly  jjoor  labors  of  a  similar  sort. 


*112  *CHAPTER    XI. 

CERVANTES    KEGLECTED.  AT    SEVILLE. HIS    FAILURE.  —  ASKS    EMPLOYMENT 

IN    AMEKICA. AT    VALLADOLIP. HIS    TROUBLES. ITBLISIIES    THE    FIRST 

PART     OF     DON     QUIXOTE.  —  HE     REMOVES     TO     MADRID. HIS    LIFE    THERE. 

HIS    RELATIONS    WITH    LOPE    DE    VEGA. HIS    TALES    AND     THEIR    CHAR- 
ACTER.—  HIS    JOURNEY    TO    PARNASSUS,    AND    DEFENCE    OF    HIS    DRAMAS. 

PUBLISHES     HIS     PLAYS    AND    ENTREMESES. THEIR    CHARACTER. SECOND 

PART    OF    DON    QUIXOTE. HIS    DEATH. 

The  low  coiiflition  of  the  theatre  in  his  time  was 
a  serious  misfortune  to  Cervantes.  It  prevented  him 
from  obtaining,  as  a  dramatic  author,  a  suitable  remu- 
neration for  his  efforts,  even  though  they  were,  as  he 
tells  us,  successful  in  winning  public  favor.  If  we  add 
to  this  that  he  was  now  n>arried,  that  one  of  his  sis- 
ters was  dependent  on  him,  and  that  he  was  maimed 
in  his  person  and  a  neglected  man,  it  will  not  seem 
remarkable  that,  after  struggling  on  for  three  years 
at  Esquivias  and  Madrid,  he  found  liimself  obliged  to 
seek  elsewhere  the  means  of  subsistence.  In  1588, 
therefore,  he  went  to  Seville,  then  the  great  mart  for 
the  vast  wealth  coming  in  from  America,  and,  as  he 
afterwards  called  it,  "  a  slielter  for  the  poor  and  a 
refug-e  for  the  unfortimate."  ^  There  he  acted  for  some 
time  as  one  of  the  agents  of  Antonio  de  Guevara,  a 
royal  commissary  for  the  American  fleets,  and  after- 
wards as  a  collector  of  moneys  due  to  the  government 

1  "Volvi'iiie  ;i  Si-villa,"  .says  Bergan-  1590,  l.'>92,  ami  1593  is  proved  beyond 

za,  iu  the    "Colotiuio  de  los  Pen-os,"  all   peradventiiie    by   documents   piib- 

"que  es  am])aro  de  j)obres  y  refugio  de  lished  at  Seville  in  1864,   by  Don  Jose 

de-sdichados."     Novelas,  Madrid,  1783,  Maria  A.sen.sio  y  Toledo,  referred  to  in 

8vo,  Tom.  II.  1..  362.     That  Cervantes  note  ii  of  the  last  chapter, 
was  at  Seville  iu  the  years  1588,  1589, 


Chai".  XL]  CERVANTES    AT    SEVILLI-:.  133 

and  to  private  iiulividLials ;  an  ]iinnl)le  coiKlit  ion,  cer- 
tainly, and  full  of  cares,  but  still  one  that  gave 
him  the  ))read  he  h.ul  vritTTt^^o ugHr~iir~DthTn^ u r- 
suits. 

The  chief  advantage,  perhaps,  of  these  employ- 
ments to  a  genius  like  that  of  Cervantes  was, 
that  they  led  him  to  *  travel  much  for  ten  years  *  113 
in  different  parts  of  Andalusia  and  Granada,  and 
made  him  familiar  with  life  and  manners  in  these  pic- 
turesque parts  of  his  native  country.  During  the  latr 
.ter  portion  of  the  time,  indeed,  partly  owing  to  the 
failure  of  a  person  to  whose  care  he  had  intrusted 
some  of  the  moneys  he  had  received,  and  partly,  it  is 
to  be  feared,  owing  to  his  own  negligence,  he  became 
indebted  to  the  government,  and  was  imprisoned  at 
Seville,  as  a  defaulter,  for  a  sum  so  small  that  it  seems 
to  mark  a  more  severe  degree  of  poverty  than  he  had 
yet  suffered.  After  a  strong  application  to  the  gov- 
ernment, he  was  released  from  prison  under  an  order 
of  December  1,  1597,  when  he  had  been  confined, 
apparently,  about  three  months ;  but  the  claims  of  the 
public  treasury  on  him  were  not  adjusted  in  1608,  nor 
do  we  know  Avhat  was  the  final  result  of  his  improvi- 
dence in  relation  to  them,  except  that  he  does  not 
seem  to  have  been  molested  on  the  subject  after  that 
date. 

During  his  residence  at  Seville,  which,  with  some 
interruptions,  extended  from  1588  to  1598,  or  perhaps 
somewhat  longer,  Cervantes  made  an  ineffectual  appli- 


cation to  the  king  for  an  appoliTtrrreiTt  in  America ; 
setting  forth  by  exact  documents  —  which  now  consti- 
tute the  most  valuabl^-materittlt^lbr-lus  biography  — 
a  general  account  of  his  adventures,  services,  and 
sufferings,  while  a  soldier  in  the  Levant,  and  of  the 


134  SHORT    OCCASIOXAL    POEMS.  [Pf.kiodIV 

miseries  of  his  life  while  he  was  a  slave  in  Algiers.^ 
This  was  in  1590.  Bnt  no  other  than  a  formal  answer 
seems  ever  toUave  been  returned  to  the  application ; 
and  tlie  whole  affair  only  leaves  ns  to  infer  the  severit}- 

of  that   distress   which    should    induce    him    to 
*  114    seek   relief  in  exile  to  a  colony  *  of  which  he 

has  elsewhere    spoken    as   the   great  resort  of 
roijues.^ 

As  an  author,  his  residence  at  Seville  has  left  few 
distinct  traces  of  him.  In  1595,  he  sent  some  trifling 
verses  to  Saragossa,  which  gained  one  of  the  prizes. 
offered  at  the  canonization  of  San  Jacinto;^  in  1596, 
he  wrote  a  sonnet  in  ridicule  of  a  great  display  of 
courage  made  in  Andalusia  after  all  danger  was  over 
and  the  EuQ-lish  had  evacuated  Cadiz.  Avliich,  mider 
Essex,  Elizabeth's  favorite,  they  had  for  a  short  time 
occupied;"  and  in  1598  he  wrote  another  sonnet, 
in  ridicule  of  an  unseemly  uproar  that  took  place  in  the 
cathedral  at  Seville,  from  a  pitiful  jealousy  between 
the  municipality  and  the  Inquisition,  on  occasion  of 
the  reliu'ious  ceremonies  observed  there  after  the  death 
of  Philip  the   Second.*'     But,  except  these  trifles,  we 

-  This   extraordinary  mass  of  docu-  ^  "  Vieiulose  ])ues  tan  falto  de  dine- 

ments  is  pn^scrvcd   in  the  "  Anhivos  ros  y  aun  no  con  nnudios   amigos,  se 

de  las  Indias,"  which  are  adniiraldy  ar-  acogio  al  reniedio  a  ijue  otros  nuichos 

ranged   in   tJie  old  and   Ijeautilur  Ex-  ^•''I'Ji'^lo'' '''^ ''^V^'^l'i  ""'l^^^^  ,[^'^^'ill"]  *>« 

change,    built    by    Herrera    in    Seville,  acogcn  ;  que  es,  el  pasarse  a  las  Indias, 

when  Seville  was  the  great  cntrepOt  be-  I'efugio  y  aniparo  de  los  desesperados  de 

tween   Spain    and   her  colonies.      The  Espaua,    iglesia   de   los   alzados,   salvo 

jjapers  referred  to  may  be  found  in  Es-  conducto  de  los  homicidas,  pala  y  cu- 

tante,  II.  Cajon  5,   Legajo  1,  and  were  l)ierta  de  los  jugadores,  anagaza  general 

discovered  V)y  the  venerable  Cean  lier-  de  mugeres  libres,   engaho   comun   de 

mudez  in  1808,  who  showed  them  to  niuchos  y  reniedio  particular  de  pocos." 

me  in  181 S.     The   most  important  of  El  Zeloso  Estremeno,    Xovelas,   Tom. 

them  are  published  entire,  and  the  rest  II.  p.  1. 

are  well  abridged,  in  the  Life  of  Cer-  *  These  verses  may  be  found  in  Xa- 

vantes   by   NavaiTete   (pp.    311-388).  vanete,  Vida,  ])p.  444,  445. 

Cervantes  petitioned  in  them  for  one  of  ^  Pelli(;er,    Vida,   ed.    Don  Quixote, 

four  offices,  —the  Auditurship  of  New  (Jladrid,  1797,  8vo,  Tom.  I.  p.  Ixxxv,', 

Granada  ;    that  of  th(t   galleys  of  Car-  gives  the  sonnet. 

thagena  ;  theOovernorshipof  the  I'rov-  *^    Sedano,     Parnaso    Espanol,    Tom. 

ince  of  Soconu.sco  ;  or  the  place  of  Cor-  l.X.  ]).  193.     In  the  "  Viage  al  Parnaso," 

regidor  of  the  city  of  Paz.  c.  4,  he  calls  it  "  Honra  principal  de 


Chap.  XL]  CErtVANTES    AT    AKGAMASILLA.  lo-J 

know  of  nothing  tliat  he  wrote,  during  this  active 
period  of  his  Hfe,  indess  we  are  to  assign  to  it  some  of 
his  tales,  which,  like  the  "  Espanola  Inglesa,"  are  con- 
nected with  known  contemporary  events,  or,  like 
"  Rinconete  y  Cortadillo,"  savor  so  much  of  the  man- 
ners of  Seville,  that  it  seems  as  if  they  could  have 
been  written  nowhere  else. 

*  Of  the  next  period  of  his  life,  —  and  it  is  "^115 
the  imjDortant  one  immediately  preceding  the 
publication  of  the  First  Part  of  Don  Quixote,  —  we 
know  even  less  than  of  the  last.  A  uniform  tradi- 
tion, however,  declares  that  he  was  emploj^ed  by  the 
Grand  Prior  of  the  Order  of  Saint  John  in  La  Mancha 
to  collect  rents  due  to  his  monastery  in  the  village 
of  Aro-amasilla ;  that  he  went  there  on  this  humble 
agency  and  made  the  attempt,  but  that  the  debtors 
refused  payment,  and,  after  persecuting  him  in  dif- 
\/  ferent  w^ays,  ended  by  throwing  him  into  prison, 
w^here,  in  a  spirit  of  indignation,  he  began  to  write 
the  Don  Quixote,  making  his  hero  a  native  of  the 
village  that  tre<i?fed  him  so  ill,  and  laying  the  scene  of 
most  of  the  knight's  earlier  adventures  in  La  Mancha. 
But,  though  this  is  possible,  and  even  probable,  we 
have  no  direct  proof  of  it.      Cervantes  says,  indeed, 

mis  escritos."     But  lie  was  mistaken,  f[uence,  comparinj^  Pliilip  II.  to  Heze- 

or  he  jested,  —  I  rather  tliink  the  last.  kiah,  who  drove  out  heresy,  and  hoast- 

For  an  account  of  the  indecent  uproar  ing  that,    "like  a  Phcenix,  as  he  was, 

Cervantes  ridiculed,  and  needful  to  ex-  he  died  in  the  nest  he  had  himself  huilt 

plain  tins  sonnet,  see  Semanario  Pinto-  up,"  —  the    famous    Escuriai.      13ernal 

resco,  Madrid,  1842,  p.  177,  and  Espi-  died  in  1601,  anil  a  popular  life  of  hiin 

nosa.   Hist,  de  Sevilla,  1627,  Segunda  was  printed  at  Seville  in  about  sixty 

Parte,  ff.  112-117.     The  principal  art-  doggerel  quintillas,   full   6f  puns,   and 

ists  of  the  city  were  employed  on  the  very  characteristic  of  a  period  in  whicii 

adiifalque  .sacriliced  in  this  unseemly  luittbonery  was  often  one  of  the  means 

riot,  and  tliey  made  it  as  magnificent  as  by  which  religion  was  made  palatable 

]Kissible.      (Stirling's  Artists  of  Spain,  to  the  rabble.     The  following  is  a  speci- 

1848,  Vol.  I.  pp.  351,  403,  463.)     The  men  of  it  :  — 

sermon    delivered   on    the  occa.sion  by  Y  que  el  varon  soberano 

^laestro  Fray  Juan  Bernal,  and  printed  Vm^sso  Pa<ir^  s,i,it<i  .w  lUmo, 

at    Seville,    l.o99,     4to,    ti.     18      is    not  Mil  rW, -<»'-. v  l.  h.illaron       ' 

without   a   sort   ot    rude   laminar  elo-  iicchos  du  suv/to////«  ^ja/io. 


136  CERVANTKS    AT    VALLADOLID.  [Pkiikm)  II. 

in  his  Preface  to  the  First  Part,  that  iii.s  Don  Quix- 
ote was  begun  in  a  prison;^  but  this  may  refer  to 
his  earher  imprisonment  at  Seville,  or  his  subsequent 
one  at  Valladolid.  All  that  is  certain,  therefore,  is, 
that  lie  had  friends  and  relaiiotts^in  La  Mancha; 
that,  at  some  period  of  his  life,  he  must  have  en- 
jo^^ed  an  opportunity  of  acquiring  the  intimate 
knowledge  of  its  people,  antiquities,  and  topography, 
which  the  Don  Quixote  shows ;  and  that  this  could 
hardly  have  happened  except  between  the  end  of 
1598,  when  we  lose  all  trace  of  him  at  Seville,  and 
the  beginning  of  1603,  when  we  find  him  established 
at  Valladolid. 

To  Valladolid  he  went,  api)arently  because  the 
court  had  been  removed  thither  by  the  caprice  of 
Philip  the  Third  and  the  interests  of  his  fa- 
"*  116  vorite,  the  Duke  of  Lerma ;  *  but,  as  every- 
wdiere  else,  there,  too,  he  was  overlooked  and 
left  in  jDOverty.  Indeed,  we  should  hardly  know  he 
was  in  Valladolid  at  all  before  the  publication  of  the 
First  Part  of  his  Don  Quixote,  but  for  two  painful 
circumstances.  The  first  is  an  account,  in  his  own 
handwriting,  for  sewing  done  by  his  sister,  who,  hav- 
ing sacrificed  everything  for  his  redemption  from  cap- 
tivity, became  dependent  on  him  during  her  widow- 
iiood,  and   died   in    his  fjimily.     The  other   is,  that  in 

"^  "  Se  ciigcutho  en  una  cdivel."  which  is  coiniiioiily  souiKlcd  unicli  like 
Avellaneda  .say.s  the  .same  thing  in  liis  "liieno.s"  {irons);  and,  on  ivferring 
Preface,  but  say.s  it  conteniptuou.sly  :  to  tlie  original  edition  of  Avellaneda, 
"  Pero  disculpan  los  yenos  de  .su  Pii-  (1614,)  I  found  the  word  actually  .spelt 
inera  Parte  en  esta  materia,  el  habf-rse  "hierros,"  {iroiis,  chahi.'i.)  while  the 
e.scrito  eiitte  los  de  una  carcel,"  etc.  lai'ge  Dictionary  of  the  Academy,  (1739, 
I  owe,  thought  that  the  article  los  in  in  verb  "  yerro,")  admitting  that  "yer- 
thi.s  j)as.sage  wiis  an  intimation  that  the  ros"  {faults)  is  sometimes  spelt  "  hier- 
residence  of  Cervantes  in  a  jail  wa.s  a  ro.s,"  settles  the  question.  In  its  mild- 
matter  of  reproach  to  him.  But  Sir  est  form,  it  is  a  poor  (juibble,  intended 
Ivlmund  Head  —  .so  familiar  with  every-  to  insult  l^ervantes  with  his  misfor- 
thing  Spanish,  and  so  acute  in  apjdy-  tunes.  There  is  a  si)nilar  \m\\  on  the 
ing  his  knowledge  —  pointed  out  to  me  word  in  Lope's  "Dorotea,"  Acto  III. 
the  pun  on  the  won  I  "ycrros,"  (/«-«/<.*,)  lOsc.  7. 


riiAP.  XI.]         ceiivantp:s  at  valladolid.  137 

one  of  those  night-brawls  common  among  the  gal- 
lants of  the  Spanish  court,  a  stranger  was  killed  near 
the  house  where  Cervantes  lived ;  in  consequence  of 
which,  and  of  some  suspicions  that  fell  on  the  family, 
he  was,  according  to  the  hard  provisions  of  the  Spanish 
law,  confined  Avith  the  other  principal  witnesses  uAtil 
an  investigation  could  take  place.^ 

But,  in  the  midst  of  poverty  and  embarrassments, 
and  while  acting  in  the  humble  capacity  of  general 
agent  and  amanuensis  for  those  wTio  neelled  his  ser- 
vices,® Cervantes  had  prepared  for  the  press  the  First 
Part  of  his  Don  Quixote,  which  was  licensed  in  1604, 
at  Valladolid,  and  printed  in  1605,  at  Madrid.  It 
was  received  with  such  decided  favor,  that,  before  the 
year  was  out,  another  edition  was  called  for  at  Madrid, 
and  two  more  elsewhere  ;  circumstances  which,  after 
so  many  discouragements  in  other  attempts  to  pro- 
cure a  subsistence,  naturally  turned  his  thoughts  more 
towards  letters  than  they  had  been  at  any  previous 
period  of  his  life. 

In  1606,  the    court  having  gone  back    to    Madrid, 
Cervantes  followed  it,  and  there    passed  the  remain- 
der   of    his   life ;    changing    his    residence    to 
*  different    parts    of    the    city    at    least   seven    *  117 
times    in  the  course  of   ten  years,   apparently 
as   he  was    driven   hither    and    thither  by  his  neces- 

*  Pellicer's  Life,  pp.  cxvi-cxxxi.     It  wrote  at  Valladolid  an  account,  in  fifty 

has  been  suggested,  on  the  authority  of  IcaA'es  (juai-to,  of  the  fe.stivitie.s  in  that 

a  satirical   sonnet  attributed    to   (Jon-  citj'  on  occasion  of  the  birth  of  Philip 

gora,  that  Cervantes  was  employed  iVy  IV.     But,  I  think,  he  was  then  a  per- 

the  Duke  of  Lerma  to  write  an  account  son  of  too  little  note  to  have  l)een  eni- 

of  the  festivities  with  which   Howard,  ployed  for  .such  a  work.     Si'c  the  Span - 

the  English  Ambassador,  was  welcomed  i.sli  tran.slation   of  this    History,   Tom. 

in  1605.      But  the  genuineness  of  the  II.  p.  5.50. 

.sonnet  is  doubtful,  and  it  does  not  .seem  ^  One  of  the  witnesses  in  the  preced- 

to   me   to   bear  the  interpretation   put  ing  criminal  inquiry  says  that  C'ervan- 

upon    it.       (Navarrete,   Vida,    ]>.    45t).  tes   was    visited    by    different    jiersons, 

D.  Quixote,  ed.  Pellicer,  1797,  Tom.  I.  "  por  ser  hombre  (jue  escribe  y  tratit 

p.   cxv. )     It  has  also   been   suggested  jiegocios." 
that  Cervautes,  in  the  same  year,  1605, 


138  CERVAXTES    AND    LOPE    I)E    VEGA.        [Pekiod  II. 

sities.  In  1009,  he  joined  the  brotherhood  of  the 
Hoi}'  Sacranient^^— one  of  those  reHgious  associations 
which  were  then  fasEToVTable ,  aTidT  the  same  of  which 
Queve(U),  Lope  de  Vega,  and  other  distinguished  men 
of  letters  of  the  time,  were  members.  About  the  same 
period,  too,  he  seems  to  have  become  known  to  most 
of  these  persons,  as  well  as  to  others  of  the  favored 
poets  round  the  court,  among  whom,  were  Espinel  and 
the  two  Argensolas ;  though  wliat  were  his  relations 
Avith  them,  beyond  those  implied  in  the  conmiendatory 
verses  they  prefixed  to  each  other's  works,  we  do  not 
know. 

Concerning  his  relations  with  Lope  de  Yega  there 
has  been  much  discussion  to  little  purpose.  Certain  it 
is  that  Cervantes  often  praises  this  great  literary  idol 
of  his  age,  and  that  four  or  five  times  Lope  stoops  from 
his  pride  of  place  and  compliments  Cervantes,  though 
never  Ijeyond  the  measure  of  praise  he  bestows  on 
many  whose  claims  were  greatly  inferior.  But  in  his 
stately  flight  it  is  plain  that  he  soared  much  above  the 
author  of  Don  Quixote,  to  whose  highest  merits  he 
seemed  carefully  to  avoid  all  homage  ;  ^"  and  though 
I  find  no  sufficient  reason  to  suppose  their  relation  to 
each  other  was  marked  by  any  personal  jealousy  or 
ill-will,  as  has  been  sometimes  supposed,  yet  I  can  find 
no  proof  that  it  was  either  intimate  or  kindly.  On 
the  contrary,  when  we  consider  the  good-natiiie  ol' 
Cervantes,  which  made  him  praise  to  excess  nearly  all 
his  other  literary  contempoiaries,  as  well  as  the  great- 
est of  them  all,  and  when  we  allow  for  the  frequency 
of  hyperbole  in  such  i)raises  at  that  time,  which  pre- 
vented tlu'iii  fiom  l>eing  what  they  would  now  ))e,  we 
may  percei\e  an   occasional   coolness  in  his   manner, 

1''  Lauiel  tltr  AjkjIo,  Silva  8,  where  he  Is  praised  onlij  as  a  poet. 


Chap.  XI. |         CERVANTES    AND    LOPE    DE    VEGA.  139 

when  he  speaks  of  Lope,  which  shows  that,  without 
overrating  his  own  merits  and  claims,  he  was  not  in- 
sensi))le  to  the  (Uflerence  in  their  respective  positions, 
or  to  the  injustice  tow'ards  himself  implied  by  it.  In- 
deed, his  whole  tone,  wdienever  he  notices  Lope, 
*  seems  to  be  marked  Avith  much  personal  dig-  *118 
nity,  and  to  be  singularly  lionorable  to  him.^^ 


11  Mo.st  of  tlic  materials  for  foi'iiiing 
a  judgment  on  thi.s  point  in  Cervante.s'.s 
character  are  to  he  found  in  Navarrete 
(Vida,  457-475),  who  maintains  that 
( 'ervantiis  and  Lope  were  sincere  friends, 
and  in  Huerta  (Leccion  Critica,  Madrid, 
1785,  ISnio,  p.  43  to  the  end),  who 
maintains  that  Cervantes  was  an  en- 
vious rival  of  Lope.  As  I  cannot  adopt 
either  of  these  results,  and  think  the 
last  particularly  unjust,  I  will  venture 
to  add  one  or  two  considerations. 

Lope  was  fifteen  years  younger  than 
Cervantes,  and  was  forty-three  years 
old  when  the  First  Part  of  the  Don 
Quixote  was  puhlished  ;  but  from  that 
time  till  the  death  of  Cervantes,  a  pe- 
riod of  eleven  years,  he  does  not,  that  I 
am  aware,  once  allude  to  him.  The 
five  passages  in  tlu;  immense  mass  of 
Lope's  works,  in  which  alone,  so  far  as 
I  know,  he  speaks  of  Cervantes,  are, 
—  1.  In  the  "Dorothea,"  1598,  twice 
slightly  and  without  ])raise.  2.  In  the 
Preface  to  his  own  Tales,  1621,  still 
more  slightly,  and  even,  I  think,  cold- 
ly. 3.  In  the  "  Laurel  de  Apolo," 
1630,  wlune  there  are  twelve  lines  of 
cold  punning  eulogy  of  him,  fourteen 
years  after  his  (hiatli.  4.  In  his  i)lay, 
"  Kl  Premio  del  Bien  Hablar,"  printed 
in  Madrid,  1635,  where  Cervantes  is 
liarcdy  mentioned  (Comedias,  4to,  Tom. 
XXI.  f.  162).  And  5.  In  "Amar  sin 
Saber  a  Quien"  (Comedias,  Madrid, 
Tom.  XXII.,  1635),  where  (Jornada 
l)rimei-a)  Leonarda,  one  of  the  princi- 
j)al  ladies,  says  to  her  maid,  who  had 
just  cited  a  ballad  of  Audalla  and 
Xa.rifa  to  her,  — 

Inez,  take  care  ;  your  common  reading  is, 
I  know,  the  Ballad-hook  ;  and,  after  all, 
Your  case  may   prove,  like .  that  of  the   poor 
knight  — 

to  which  Inez  replies,  interrn])ting  her 
mistress,  — 

Don  Quixote  of  La  Mancha,  if  you  please, — 
May  Crod  Cervantes  pardon  1  —  was  a  knight 


Of  that  wild,  erriuK  sort  the  (Chronicle 
So  uia^uities.      For  uie,  1  only  read 
The  Lallad-book,  and  find  myself  from  day 
To  day  the  better  for  it. 

All  this  looks  very  reserved  ;  but,  when 
we  add  to  it  that  there  were  numbei'less 
occasions  on  which  Lo))e  could  have 
gracefully  noticcnl  the  merit  to  which 
he  could  never  have  been  insensible, — 
especially  when  he  makes  so  fi'ee  and 
unjustifiable  a  use  of  Cervantes's  "  Trato 
de  Argel"  in  his  own  "Esclavos  de 
Argel,"  absolutely  introducing  him  by 
name  on  the  .stage,  and  giving  him  a 
prominent  part  in  the  action  (Comedi- 
as, Qarag0(;a,  1647,  4to,  Tom.  XXV. 
])p.  245,  251,  257,  262,  277),  without 
showing  any  of  those  kindly  or  respect- 
ful feelings  which  it  was  easy  ami  com- 
mon to  show  to  friends  on  the  Sjianish 
stage,  and  which  Calderon,  for  instance, 
so  fr(;c[uently  shows  to  Cervantes  (e.  g. 
Casa  con  Dos  Puertas,  Jorn.  I.,  etc.), 
—  we  can  hardly  doulit  that  Lojie  will- 
ingly overlooked  and  neglected  Cer- 
vantes, at  least  from  the;  time  of  the 
appearance  of  the  First  Part  of  Don 
Quixote,  in  1605,  till  after  its  author's 
death,  in  1616. 

On  the  other  hand,  Cervantes,  from 
the  date  of  the  "  Canto  de  Caliope  "  in 
the  "Galatea,"  1584,  when  Lope  was 
only  twenty-two  years  old,  to  the  date 
of  the  Preface  to  the  Second  Part  of 
Don  Quixote,  1615,  only  a  year  before 
his  own  death,  was  constantly  giving 
Lope  the  praises  due  to  one  who,  beyond 
all  contnmporar))  doubt  or  rivalshi]i, 
was  at  the  head  of  Si)anish  literature  ; 
and,  among  other  proofs  of  .such  eh^ 
vated  and  generous  feelings,  prefixed, 
in  1598,  a  laudatory  sonnet  to  Loi)e's 
"Dragontea."  But,  at  the  same  time 
that  he  did  this,  and  did  it  freely  and 
fully,  there  is  a  dignified  reserve  and 
caution  in  some  j)arts  of  his  remark.s 
about  Lope  that  show  he  was  not  im- 
pelled by  any  warm,  personal  regard  ; 


140 


THE    NOVEL  AS    EXEMPLAEES. 


[Peuiod  II. 


*119         *  In  1613  he  published  his  "Novelas  Exera- 

plares,"  Instructive  or  Moral  Tales,^^  twelve  in 

number,  and  making  one  volume.     Some  of  them  were 

written  several  years  before,  as  was  ''  The  Impertinent 


a  caution  whii'h  is  so  obvious,  that 
Avcllauctla,  iu  the  Preface  to  his  Don 
Quixote,  maliciously  interpreted  it  into 
env)'. 

It  therefore  seems  to  me  difficult  to 
avoid  the  conclusion,  tliat  the  relations 
between  the  two  great  Spanish  authors 
of  this  jieriod  were  such  as  might  be 
ex])ected,  where  one  was,  to  an  extraor- 
dinary degree,  the  idol  of  his  time, 
and  the  other  a  suffering  and  neglected 
man.  What  is  most  agreeable  about 
tlie  wliole  matter  is  the  generous  jus- 
tice Cervantes  never  fails  to  render  to 
Lope's  merits. 

But,  since  the  preceding  account, 
both  in  the  text  and  note,  was  pub- 
lislied,  (1849,)  more  evidence  has  been 
discovered  on  the  .subject  of  the  per- 
sonal I'elations  of  Cervantes  and  Lope  ; 
—  unliapjjily,  such  as  leaves  no  doubt 
of  Lope's  ungenerous  feelings  towards 
liis  great  contein])orary.  It  is  pub- 
lished in  the  "  NachtrJige  zur  Ges- 
chichte  der  dramatischen  Litei-atur  und 
Kunst  in  Spanien  von  A.  F.  von 
Schack,"  (Frankfurt  am  Main,  1854, 
8vo,  pp.  31-34,)  and  consists  of  ex- 
tracts, made  by  Duran,  from  autograph 
letters  of  Lope,  found  among  the  papers 
of  Lope's  great  patron  and  friend,  the 
Duke  de  Sessa,  who  jiaid  the  (ixpenses 
of  Ids  funeral,  and  inherite<l  his  manu- 
.S(;ripts.  The  principal  one,  for  the 
})re.seiit  jmrpose,  is  dated  August  4, 
1604,  while  the  Don  Quixote  was  in 
the  press  ;  and  when  reading  it  we 
mu.st  bear  in  mind  that  Cervantes  did 
not  muclx  regard  tlie  fashion  of  Ins 
time  in  ])refixing  laudatory  .sonncds, 
etc.,  of  his  fiiends,  to  his  other  works, 
and,  lias  ridiculed  it  outright  in  the 
jesting  and  satiiical  ver.ses  he  has  pre- 
fixed to  liis  Don  Quixote,  in  the  names 
of  Aniadis  de  Oaula,  Orlando  Furio.so, 
etc.  Lope,  under  these  circumstances, 
writes  to  his  friend  the  Duke  :  '.'  Of 
poets  I  speak  not.  Many  are  in  th(; 
hud  for  next  year  ;  but  tliere  is  none  so 
had  as  (Jcrvanlf.x,  or  so  ibolish  as  to 
praise  Don  Quixote," — pero  niiujuno 
}my  tan  main  coriio  Cervantes,  ni  tan 
necio  que  alube  d  Don  QutJMte.     And 


further  on,  speaking  of  satire,  he  says, 
"  It  is  a  thing  as  hateful  to  me  as  my 
little  books  are  to  Alniendares,  and  nuj 
plays  to  Ccrv((ntcs."  Of  course  there 
can  be  no  mistake  about  the  feelings 
with  which  such  bitter  words  were 
written.  They  are  the  more  cruel,  as 
Cervantes  was  then  a  suffering  man, 
living  in  .severe  poverty  at  Valladolid, 
and  Lope  knew  it. 

I  do  not  know  who  is  hit  imder  the 
name  of  Almendares,  but  suspect  it  is 
a  misspelling  or  mi.sprint  of  tliat  of 
Almenda/'/^,  who  published  poor  re- 
ligious poetry  in  the  popular  style  — 
popidiiri  carmine — in  1603  and  1613, 
and  is  praised  by  Cervantes  in  his  Viage 
al  Parnaso. 

I  have  .said  nothing  here  of  the  .son- 
nets lirst  published  by  Pellicer  in  his 
"  Biblioteca  de  Traductores"  (Tom.  I., 
1778,  jip.  170,  etc.).  I  mean  two  at- 
tributed to  Cervantes  and  one  to  Lope, 
in  which  those  great  men  are  made  to 
ridicule  eacli  other  in  very  bad  taste  ; 
—  1  have,  1  .say,  not  mentioned  these 
sonnets,  ])artly  because,  even  as  set 
forth  by  Pellicer,  they  have  a  very  sus- 
picious look,  but  chiefly  because  the 
matter  at  the  time  was  sifted  by  Huer- 
ta,  Forner,  etc.,  and  no  doubt  was  left 
that  they  arc  spurious.  See  "  Leccion 
Critica,"  ut  supra; — "  Tentativa  de 
ajnovechar  el  merito  de  la  Leccion 
Critica,  en  defensa  de  Cervantes  por 
Don  Placido  Guerrero,"  (Madrid,  1785, 
ISmo,  pp.  30,  ec.,)  and  finally,  "  Re- 
flexiones  sobre  la  Leccion  Critica  por 
Tome  Cecial,  ec.  las  publica  Don  J.  P. 
Forner."  Madrid,  1786,  18mo,  pp. 
107-123. 

^'■^  He  explains  in  his  Preface  the 
meaning  he  wishes  to  give  the  word 
cxemplarcs,  saying,  "Heles  dado  nom- 
bre  de  cjxmjjlares,  y  si  bien  lo  miias, 
no  hay  ninguna  de  <iuien  no  se  puede 
sacar  alguii  exeinjilo  provechoso."  The 
word  crcmjifo,  from  the  time  of  tlie 
Archpriest  of  Ilita  and  Don  Juan  Man- 
uel, liius  had  tlie  meaning  of  instruction 
or  instructive  storij.  The  novelas  have 
been  the  most  successful  of  Cervantes's 
work.s,  except  Ids  D.  (Quixote. 


Chap.  aI.]  THE    XOVELAS    EXEMPLARES.  141 

Curiosity,"  insGrted  in  the  First  Part  of  Don  Quixote/'^ 
and  "Rinconetey  Cortadillo,"  which  is  mentioned  there, 
so  that  both  nuist  be  (hited  as  early  as  1604;  while  oth- 
ers contain  internal  evidence  of  the  time  of  their 
composition,  *  as  the  ''Espanola  Inglesa  "  does,  *  120 
which  seems  to  have  been  written  in  1611. 
All  of  these  stories  are,  as  he  intimates  in  their  Pref- 
ace, original,  and  most  of  them  have  the  air  of  being 
drawn  from  his  personal  experience  and  observation.^^ 

Their  value  is  different,  for  they  are  written  with 
different  views,  and  in  a  variety  of  style  and  manner 
greater  than  he  has  elsewhere  shown  ;  but  most  of 
them  contain  touches  of  what  is""peTmiifH*^ in  his  talent, 
and  are  full  of  that  rich  eloquence,  anff  of  those  pleas- 
ing descriptions  of  natural  scenery,  which  always  flow 
so  easily  from  his  pen.  They  have  little  in  common 
with  the  graceful  story-telling  spirit  of  Boccaccio  and 
his  followers,  and  still  less  with  the  strictly   practical 

13  The  "Ciirioso  Impertinente,"  first  these  tales  are  the  oldest  in  the  lan- 
priiited  in  1605,  in  the  First  Part  of  Don  guage,  —  "  Yo  soy  el  priniero  que  he 
Quixote,  was  printed  in  Paris  in  1608,  iiovelado  en  lengua  Castellana";  —  but 
—  live  years  before  the  collected  Nove-  he  explains  this  by  .saying  that  those 
las  appeared  in  Madrid,  —  by  Ciesar  who  had  preceded  hini  in  this  style  of 
Oudin,  a  teacher  of  Spanish  at  the  composition  had  borrowed  their  lictions 
French  court,  who  caused  several  other  from  other  languages.  This  is  true  of 
Spanish  books  to  be  printed  in  Paris,  Timouuda,  butit  isnottrueof  tluiConde 
where  the  Castilian  was  in  much  favor  Lucanor.  I  su))pose,  however,  that  he 
from  the  intermarriages  between  the  referred  to  the  "  No velas,"  then  coming 
crowns  of  France  and^Spain.  Oudin  in  fashion,  which  were  taken  from  the 
printed  the  Curioso  Impertinente,  with-  Italian.  Those  of  Cervantes  have  been, 
out  its  author's  name,  at  the  end  of  a  undoubtedly,  after  the  Don  Quixote, 
volume  entitled  Silva  curiosa  de  Julian  the  most  favored  of  all  his  works,  and 
de  Medrano,  cavallero  Navarro,  ec,  cor-  the  most  des<'i'ving  of  favor.  One  sep- 
regida  en  esta  nueva  edicion,  ec,  por  ai'ate  t(!stimony  to  their  power  should, 
Cesar  Oudin.  Paris,  1608,  8vo,  pj).  however,  not  be  forgotten.  In  Lock- 
328.  Many  other  proofs  could  be  given  hart's  Life  of  Scott  (ed.  London,  1839, 
of  the  fashionable  prevalence  of  Spanisli  Vol.  X.  p.  187)  we  are  told  that  Scott 
in  France.  Cervantes  says,  somewhat  "  expressed  the  mo.st  unbounded  adnii- 
extravagantly,  "  En  Francia  ni  muger  ration  for  Cervantes,  and  said  that  the 
ni  varon  d(!xa  de  aprender  la  Lengua  '  Novelas '  of  that  author  had  inspired 
Ca.stellana."  (Persile.s,  Lib.  III.  c.  13.)  him  with  the  ambition  of  exielling  in 
But  the  Spanish  tlieatre  established  in  fiction,  and  tliat,  until  disabled  by  ill- 
Paris  twelve  years  is  proof  enough.  See  ness,  he  had  been  a  constant  reader  of 
fost.  Chap.  XXVI.  note  12.  them." 

1*  In   the   prologue,    Cei'vantes  says 


142  THE    NOVELA.S    EXEMPLAKES.  [Pemud  II, 

tone  of  Don  Juan  Manuel's  tales  ;  nor,  on  the  other 
hand,  do  thej*  approach,  except  in  the  case  of  the  Im- 
pertinent Curiosity,  the  class  of  short  novels  Avhich 
have  been  frequent  in  other  countries  within  the  last 
century.  The  more,  therefore,  we  examine  them,  the 
more  we  shall  find  that  they  are  original  in  their  com- 
position and  ■4:;eneral^tone,  and  that  they  are  strongly 
marked  with  the  indivi(hial  ucuiiis  of  their  author,  as 
well  as  with  the  more  peculiar  traits  of  the  national 
character,  —  the  ground,  no  doubt,  on  which  they 
have  always  been  favorites  at  home,  and  less  valued 
than  they  deserve  to  be  abroad.  As  works  of  inven- 
tion they  rank,  among  their  author\s  prod-uctions,  next 
after  Don  Quixote  ;  in  correctness  and  grace  of  (^tyle, 
they  stand  before  it. 

The  first  in  the  series,  "  The  Little  Gypsy  Girl,"  is 
the  story  of  a  beautiful  creature,  Preciosa,  who  had 
been  stolen,  when  an  infant,  from  a  noble  family,  and 
educated  in  tlie  wild  community  of  the  Gypsies, — 
that  mysterious  and  degraded  race  which,  until  within 
the  last  fifty  years,  has  always  thriven  in  Spain  since 
it  first  appeared  there  in  the  fifteenth  century.     There 

is  a  truth,  as  well  as  a  spirit,  in  parts  of  this 
*  121     little  story,  that  *  cannot  be  overlooked.       The 

description  of  Preciosa's  first  appearance  in 
Madrid  duriniif  a  great  reli":ious  festival ;  the  effect 
])i-odnced  l)y  her  dancing  and  singing  in  the  streets; 
her  visits  to  the  houses  to  which  she  was  called  for 
the  amusement  of  the  rich ;  and  the  conversations, 
com})liments,  and  style  of  entertainment,  are  all  ad- 
mirable, and  leave  no  doubt  of  their  truth  and  re- 
ality. But  there  are  other  passages  which,  mis- 
taking in  some  respects  the  true  Gypsy  character, 
seem  as   if  they  were  rather   drawn   from  some  such 


Cii-vr.   XI. J  THE    NOVKLAS    EXKMI'LAlIKb.  143 

imitations  ol'  it  as  the  '^  Life  of  Bampfjlde  Moore  Ca- 
rew "  than  from  a  familiarity  with  Gypsy  life  as  it 
then  existed   in   Spa  in. ^'^ 

The  next  of  the  tales  is  very  different,  and  yet  no 
less  within  the  personal  experience  of  Cervantes 
himself  It  is  called  "  The  Generous  Lover,"  and  is 
neiirly  the  same  in  its  incidents  with  an  episode  found 
in  his  o)vn  "Trato  de  Argel."  The  scene  is  laid  in 
Cyprus,  two  years  after  the  capture  of  that  island 
by  the  Turks,  in  1570;  but  here  it  is  his  own  adven- 
tures in  Algiers  upon  which  he  draws  for  the  materials 
and  coloring  of  what  is  Turkish  in  his  story,  and  the 
vivacity  of  his  descriptions  shows  how  much  of  reality 
there  is  in  both.  , 

The  third  stor}*,  "  Rinconete  y  Cortadillo,"  is  again 
quite  unlike  any  of  the  others.  It  is  an  account, 
partly  in  the  picaresque  style,  of  two  young  vagabonds, 
not  without  ingenuity  and  spirit,  who  join  at  Seville, 
in  1569,  one  of  those  organized  communities  of  robbers 
and  beggars  which  often  recur  in  the  history  of  Span- 
ish society  and  manners  during  the  last  three  centuries. 
The  realm  of  Monipodio,  their  chief,  reminds  us  at  once 
of  Alsatia  in  Sir  Walter  Scott's  "  Nigel,"  and  the 
resemblance  is  made  still  more  obvious  afterwards, 
when,  in  "The  Colloquy  of  the  Dogs,"  we  find  the 
same  Monipodio  in  secret  league  with  the  officers  of 
justice.^^-  A  single  trait,  however,  will  show  with 
what  fidelity  Cervantes  has  copied  from  nature.  The 
members    of   this    confederacy,    who    lead    the    most 

!•'  This   story   lias    been   draniatized  or  a  liundred  others  of  the  same  sort, 

more  than  once  in  Spain,   and  freely  The   large   dictionary   of  the   Spanish 

nsed   elsewhere,  —  among  the  rest,   as  Academy  makes  Monipodio  a  popnlar 

an  opera,   by  Carl  Maria  Weber.     See  corruption  of  Monijjolio;  and  Antonio 

note  on  the  "Gitanilla"  of  Soils,  2wst,  Perez,  in  one  of  his  letters  to  Gil  de 

Chap.  XXV.  Mesa,  extends  it  to  frauds  in  contracts, 

14  The  name  of  "Monipodio"  was  foiged  testaments,   etc.;   in   short,   to 

no  moi-e  taken  by  accident  than  that  of  general  roguery. 
Jonathan    Oldcn'bnck,    Mr.    Alhvorthy, 


144  THE  NOVELAS  EXEMl'LAKEtS.      lI'ki^I'JI'  H- 

*  122  dissolute  and  lawless  lives,  are  yet  *  repre- 
sented as  superstitious,  and  as  having  tlieir 
images,  their  masses,  and  their  contributions  for  pious 
charities,  as  if  robbery  Avere  a  settled  and  respectable 
vocation,  a  part  of  whose  income  was  to  be  devoted  to 
religious  purposes  m  order  to  consecrate  the  remainder  ; 
a  delusion  which,  in  forms  alternately  ridiculous  and 
revolting,  has  subsisted  in  Spain  from  very  eaaly  tinies^ 
down  to  the  present  day.^*^ 

It  would  be  easy  to  go  on  and  show  how  the  rest  of 
the  tales  are  nuirked  wdth  similar  traits  of  truth  and 
nature  :  for  example,  the  story  founded  on  the  adven- 
tures of  a  Spanish  girl  carried  to  England  when  Cadiz 
was  sacked  in  1596;  "The  Jealous  Estremadurian." 
and  '■  The  Fraudulent  Marriage,"  the  last  two  of  which 
bear  internal  evidence  of  being  founded  on  fact ;  and 
even  "  The  Pretended  Aunt,"  which,  as  he  did  not 
print  it  himself,  —  apparently  in  consequence  of  its 
coarseness,  —  ought  not  now  to  l)e  placed  among  his 
works,  is  after  all  the  story  of  an  adventure  that 
really  occurred  at  Salamanca  in   1575.^'     Indeed,  they 

i«  It  i.s  ill)  admirable  hit,  when  llin-  ^Madrid,  1810,  12mo,)  notes  the  aptiie.ss, 

conete,  lii'st  becoming  Hcijuainted  with  with   which   C'ei'vantes    alludes    to   the 

<me  of  tlie  rogues,  asks  him,  "  Es  vuesa  diflerent  localities  in  the  gi-eat  cities  of 

merced  por  ventura  ladron?"  and  the  Spain,    which  constituted   the  lendez- 

rogue  replies,  ^^ Si,  pnru  servir  d  Dios  y  vous  and  lurking-i)laces  of  its  vagabond 

ft  la  bueiia  t/enle."     (Novelas,  Tom.  E  po])ulation.     (p.  75.)     Among  these  Sc- 

]».    23rj.)     And,    again,    the   scene   (pp.  ville  was  pre-eminent.      Guevara,  when 

242 --247)  where  Hinconete  and  Corta-  he  describes  a  community  like  that  of 

dillo  are  n-ceived  among  the  robbers,  Monijiodio,  places  it,  as  Cervantes  does, 

and  tiiat  (pp.  254,  255)  where  two  of  in    Seville.      Dial)lo    Cojuelo,    Trance 

the  shameless  women  of  the  gang  are  IX. 

very  anxious  to  provide  candles  to  .set  '"  Coarse  as  it  i.s,  however,  tlie  "Tia 
up  as  devout  olferings  before  their  pa-  Fingida"  was  found,  with  "  Kinrunete 
tron  .saints,  are  hardly  less  hajipy,  and  y  Cortadillo,"  and  several  other  tales 
are  perfectly  true  to  the  cliaiacters  rep-  and  miseellanies,  in  a  manu.script  col- 
resented.  Indeeil,  it  is  ))lain  from  this  lection  of  stories  and  trifles  made  1606- 
tale,  anil  from  several  of  the  Entrenie-  1610,  fur  the  amusement  of  the  Arch- 
.ses  of  Cervantes,  that  he  wa.s  familiar  bishoji  of  Seville,  D.  Fernando  Nin'.  de 
with  the  life  of  the  rogues  of  his  time.  Ouevaia  ;  and  long  afterwards  carefully 
Fermin  Caballero,  in  a  jdeasant  tract  preserved  by  the  Jesuits  of  St.  Hernie- 
on  the  f;eograj)hical  Knowledge  of  Cer-  negild.  A  castigated  coi)y  of  it  was 
vantes,(I'ericia  Geograficade  Cervantes,  printed  by  Arrieta  in  his  "  Es]i{ritu  de 


Chai'.  XI.] 


THE    VIAUE    DEL    TAKXASO. 


140 


are  all  fresh  iVoni  the  *  raey  soil  of  the  national  *  123 
character,  as  that  character  is  found  in  Anda- 
lusia ;  and  are  written  with  an  idiomatic  richness, 
a  s})irit,  and  a  grace,  which,  though  they  are  the  oldest 
tales  of  their  class  in  Spain,  have  left  them  ever  since 
without  successful  rivals.  Ten  editions  of  them  were 
pul)lished  in  nine  years. 

In  1(314,  the  year  after  they  appeared,  Cervantes 
printed  his  "Journey  to  Parnassus";  a  satire  in  ter?:a 
rliitd,  divided  into  eight  short  chapters,  and  written  in 
professed  imitation  of  an  Italian  satire,  by  Cesare 
Caporali,  on  the  same  subject  and  in  the  same  meas- 
ure.^^  Tlie  poem  of  Cervantes  has  little  merit.  It 
is  an  account  of  a  summons  by  Apollo,  requiring  all 
good  poets  to  come  to  his  assistance  for  the  purpose  of 
driving  all  the  bad  poets  from  Parnassus,  in  the  course 
of  which  Mercury  is  sent  in  a  royal  galley,  allegoricallj 


Myuel  de  Cervantes"  (Madrid,  1814, 
12nio)  ;  but  the  Prussian  ambassador 
in  Spain,  if  I  mistake  not,  soon  after- 
wards obtained  possession  of  an  unal- 
tered copy,  certified  by  Navarrete  to  be 
exact,  and  sent  it  to  Berlin,  where  it 
was  published  by  the  famous  Greek 
scholar,  Y.  A.  Wolf,  first  in  one  of  the 
periodicals  of  Berlin,  and  afterwards  in 
a  separate  pamphlet.  (See  his  Vorhe- 
richt  to  the  "  Tia  Fingida,  Novela  in- 
edita  de  Miguel  de  C'ervantes  Saavedra," 
Berlin,  1818,  8vo. )  It  has  since  been 
printed  in  Spain  with  the  other  tales  of 
t'ervantes. 

An  acute,  characteristic  criticism  of 
the  "Tia  Fingida,"  by  D.  Bart.  Jose 
Gallardo,  may  be  found  in  the  first  num- 
ber of  his  "Criticon,"  1835;  giving, 
among  other  curious  matter,  improved 
readings  of  it  in  .several  places. 

Some  of  the  tales  of  Cervantes  were 
translated  into  English  as  early  as  1640  ; 
but  not  well  into  French,  I  think,  till 
Viardot  published  his  translation  (Paris, 
1838,  2  tom.  8vo).  Even  he,  however, 
did  not  venture  on  the  obscure  puns 
and  jests  of  the  "  Licenciado  Vidriera," 
a  fiction  of  which  Moreto  made  use  in 
his  play  of  the  same  name,  representing 
vol,,   ri.  10 


the  Licentiate,  however,  as  a  feigned 
madman  and  not  as  a  real  one,  and 
showing  little  of  the  humor  of  the  origi- 
nal conception.  (Comedias  Escogidas, 
Madrid,  4to,  Tom.  V.  1653.)  Under 
the  name  of  "  Leocadie,"  there  is  a  poor 
abridgment  of  the  "  Fuerza  de  la  San- 
gre,"  by  Florian.  The  old  English 
tran.slation  by  Mabbe  (London,  1640, 
folio)  is  said  by  Godwin  to  be  "  perhaps 
the  most  perfect  specimen  of  proses 
translation  in  the  English  language." 
(Lives  of  E.  and  J.  Pliilips,  Loudon, 
1815,  4to,  p.  246.)  The  praise  is  ex- 
cessive, but  the  translation  is  certainly 
very  well  done.  It,  however,  extends 
only  to  six  of  the  tales. 

1"  The  first  edition  is  in  small  duo- 
decimo, (Madrid,  1614,)  80  leaves  ;  bet- 
ter piinted,  I  think,  than  any  other  of 
his  woi'ks  that  were  published  under 
his  own  care.  Little  but  the  opening 
is  imitated  from  Cesare  Caporali's  "Vi- 
aggio  in  Parnaso,"  which  is  only  about 
one  fifth  as  long  as  the  poem  of  Cer- 
vantes. The  "  Viag(!  del  Pai'uaso  "  had 
no  success.  Unless  there  is  an  edition 
of  Milan,  1624,  which  1  know  only  from 
N.  Antonio,  none  appeared  after  the 
first,  I  believe,  till  1736. 


14G  TlIK    VIAUK    DKl-    PAiJXASO.  [rj:i;i(>i.  H. 

])uilt  and  rigg'ed  with  dilU'ronl  kinds  ol"  verses,  to  Cer- 
vantes, who.  beini;-  confidentially  consulted  about  the 
Spanisli  poets  tliat  ean  l)e  trusted  as  allies  in  the  war 
against  bad  taste,  has  an  opportunity  of  speaking  his 
opinion  on  wliatever  relates  to  the  poetry  of  his  time. 

The  most  interesting  part  is  the  fourth  cliapter. 
in  which  he  slightly  notices  the  works  he  has  himself 
written.^''  and  com])lains.  with  a  gayety  that  at 
*  124  least  proves  *' his  good-humor,  of  the  poverty 
and  neglect  with  which  they  have  been  re- 
warded.-" It  may  be  dilhcult,  perhaps,  to  draw  a  line 
between  such  feelings  as  Cervantes  here  very  strongly 
expresses,  and  the  kindred  ones  of  vanity  and  pre- 
sumption ;  but  yet,  when  his  genius,  his  Avants,  and  his 
manlv  strui2:o:les  against  the  gravest  evils  of  life  are 
considered,  and  when  to  this  are  added  the  light- 
heartedness  and  simplicity  with  which  he  always 
speaks  of  himself,  and  the  indulgence  he  always  shows 
to  others,  fcAV  will  complain  of  him  for  claiming  with 
some  boldness  honors  that  had  been  coldly  withheld, 
and  to  whic-h  he  felt   that   he  was  entitled. 

At  the  end  he  has  added  a  humorous  jn-ose  dialogue, 
called  the  "  Adjunta,"  defending  his  dramas,  and  attack- 
ing the  actoi's  who  refused  to  represent  them.  He 
says  that  he  had  prepared  six  full-length  plays,  and  six 
Entremeses,   or   farces;    l)ut   that  the   theatre    liad   its 

^^  .Vmonp  thoni  he  sjicaks  of  many  FcniinKU'z,    Madrid,    179(5,    Svo,    Tom. 

ballads  tliat  lie  had  written  : —  XVI.   j).    17.').      Jlayans,   Vida  <lc  Cer- 

Yo  hceompiie>;to  Uonianres  infinitos,  vantes,  I\0.   ](>4. 

Y  <-l  deIosZc"losoKa(nicl  (lueeftinio  20   ^jioHo  tidls  llim,  (Viagc,  cd.  1784, 

Entre  otros,  (jue  los  U;ngo  por  nialditos.  ^    55  ) 

All  these  are  lost,  except   such   as   may  "  Mas  si  (|iiieres  salinle  tu  iiucrclla. 
l)c  found  scattered  througli  his  longer  AU'^^r..  v  n..  ronfuso  y  consolaa.. 

,  ,  1-111  Dohia  tu  i-apa  v  sifiitate  sobrc  clla. 

works,  and  some Whicil   have   been   SUS-  Que  U.l  vo/.  sudeun  venturoso  estado, 
)ie.cted  to  be  his  in  tin-  Koniancero  Gen-  Qimndo  le  niejiii  sin  razon  la  suerte, 

eral.       ("lemencin,    notes   to   his   e(l.    of  ,    Honnir  mas  memido  quf  alcanzado  " 
r.        ,-1    •       .        rp           Til     —        1  ri-     .-t-i  I    '  Bicn  parcce,  Soiior,  (lue  no  se  adricrto,  ' 

Don  Quixote,    Tom.   III.  pp.    15b,    214.  I...  r...!.pnn,li,  "  ,,uc  J"  noten^'ocnpa - 

Colecciou   de    Poesuus    dc    Don    lianion  El  dixo:  "Aunquu  sea  a«i,  gusto  de  verte.'' 


LiiAP.  XL]  THE    yiAGE    DEL    PARXASO.  147 

pensioned  poets,  und  so  took  no  note  of  liiin.  The 
next  _ve;ir,  liowever,  when  their  lunnher  had  become 
eight  phiys  and  eight  Entrenieses,  he  fonnd  a  ])ul)hsher, 
thongh  not  without  diliicnlty ;  for  the  bookseller,  as 
he  saj^s  in  the  Preface,  had  been  warned  by  a  noble 
anthor,  that  from  his  prose  nineli  might  l)e  hoped,  but 
from  his  poetry  nothing.  And  truly  his  position  in 
relation  to  the  theatre  was  not  one  to  be  desired. 
Thirty  years  had  passed  since  lie  liad  himself  been 
a  successful  writer  for  it ;  and  the  twenty  or  more 
pieces  he  had  then  produced,  some  of  which  he  men- 
tions anew  with  great  complacency,"^  were,  no 
doubt,  long  since  forgotten.  *  In  the  interval,  *  125 
as  he  tells  us,  "  that  great  prodigy  of  nature, 
Lope  de  Vega,  had  raised  himself  to  the  monarchy  of 
the  theatre,  subjected  it  to  his  control,  and  placed 
all  its  actors  under  his  jurisdiction  ;  filled  the  world 
with  becoming  plays,  happily  and  well  written ;  .  .  .  . 
and  if  any  persons  (and  in  truth  there  are  not  a 
few  such)  have  desired  to  enter  into  competition  with 
him  and  share  the  glory  of  his  labors,  all  they  have 
done,  when  put  together,  would  not  equal  the  half  of 
what  has  been  done  by  him  alone."  ^^ 

21  The  "Confu.sa"  was  eviik'iitly  his  talla   Naval,"  which,    from    its   name, 

favorite  among  these  eailiei-  pieces.     In  contained,    I    think,    his   personal   ex- 

the  Viage  he  says  of  it,  —  periences  at  the  fight  of  Lepanto,    as 

Soj' por  quicn  La  Confusa  nada  fea  the  "  Trato  de  Argel "  contained  those 

Pareci  J  en  los  teatros  admirable  ;  q^  Algiers, 

and  in  the  "Adjunta"  he  says,    "De  -^  After  alluding  to  his  earlier  efforts 

la  f^ue  mas  me  precio  fue  ?/  es,  de  una  on  the  stage,  Cervantes  goes  on  in  the 

llamada  La  Confusa,  la  qual,  con  paz  Prologo  to  his  new  plays  :  "Tuveotras 

sea  dieho,  de  quantas  comedias  de  capa  cosas  en  que  ocuparme  ;  dexe  la  pluma 

y  espada  hasta  hoy  se  han  representado,  y  las  comedias,  y  entro  luego  el  mon- 

bien    pucde   tener   lugar   senalado  jior  struo  de  naturaleza,  el  gran  Lope  de 

buena  entre  las  mejores."     This  boast,  Vega,  y  alzose  con  la  monarquia  comica ; 

it  should  ))e  remembered,  was  made  in  avasallo    y    pnso  debaxo    de    su  juris- 

1614,  when  Cervantes  had  i)rinted  the  diccion  a  todos  los  Farsantes,  lleno  el 

First   Part   of  the   Don  Quixote,    and  mundo  de  Comedias  proprias,  felices  y 

when  Lope  and  his  school  were  at  the  bien  razonadas  ;  y  tantas  que  ])a,ssan  de 

height  of  their  glory.      It  is  ])robable,  diez  mil  jiliegos  los  que  tiene  escritos, 

however,  tliat  we,  at  the  present  tlay,  y  todas  (que   es  una  de   las   mayores 

should  be  more  curious  to  see  the  "  Ba-  cosas  que  puedc  decii'se)  las  ha  visto 


148  THE    COMEDIAS    OF    CERYAXTES.  [Pkkiod  II. 

The  number  of  these  writers  for  the  stage  in  1G15 
was.  as  Cervantes  intimates,  very  considerable  ;  and 
when  he  goes  on  to  enumerate,  an.ong  the  more  suc- 
cessful, Mira  de  Mescna,  Guillen  de  Castro,  Aguilar, 
Luis  Velez  de  Guevara,  Caspar  de  Avila,  and  several 
others,  we  perceive,  at  once,  that  the  essential  dh^ection 
and  character  of  the  Spanish  drama  were  at  last 
determmed.  Of  course,  the  free  field  open  to  liiui 
when  he  composed  the  plays  of  his  j'outh  was  now 
closed  ;  aiid  as  he  wrote  from  the  pressure  of  w^ant,  he 
conld  venture  to  write  onl^^  according  to  the  models 
triumphantly  established  by  Lope  de  Vega  and  his 
imitators. 

The -eight  plays  or  Comedias  he  now  produced  w^ere, 
therefore,  all  composed  in  the  style  and  in  the  forms 
of  verse  already  fashionable  and  settled.  Their  subjects 
are  as  various  as  the  subjects  of  his  tales.  One  of 
them  is  a  rifacimento  of  his  "  Trato  de  Argel,"  and 
is  curious,  because  it  contains  some  of  the  materials, 
and  even  occasionally  the  very  phraseology, 
*  126  of  the  story  *  of  the  Captive  in  Don  Quixote, 
and  l)ecause  Lope  de  Vega  thought  fit  after- 
wards to  use  it  somewhat  too  freely  in  the  composition 
of  his  own  "  Esclavos  en  x\rgel."^^  Much  of  it  seems 
to  be  founded  in  fi\ct ;  among  the  rest,  the  deplorable 
martyrdom  of  a  child  in  the  third  act,  and  the  repre- 

representar,  u  oido  decir  (por  lo  menos)  of  othei-s  aftei-ward  ;  and  ends  with  a 

que  se  han  reprcseiitado  ;  y  si  algunos,  Moorish  wedding  and  a  Christian  mar- 

(((ue  hay  nmcli(js)  han  querido  entrar  tyi'dom.      (See   ante.    Chap.    X.)      He 

a  la  parte  y  .i^loria  th-  sus  trabajos,  todos  says  of  it  himself  :  — 
juntos  no  llegan  en  lo  que  han  escrito  No  de  la  jmaginacion 

a  la  mitad  de  lo  que  el  solo,"  etc.  Este  trato  f-e  i^acj 

•M  mi  •         1  1  ■   1     /  >  i.  11  Q"<-'  la  vcnlad  lo  fraeuo 

^  This  play,  which  (  ervantes  calls  gj^,,  1pj„,  j^,  i,^  ^^^-^^^ 

"  Los    Baiios    de    Argel,"    (Coinedia.s,  p.  186. 

1749,  Tom.  I.  p.  125,)  opens  with  the  tJj^,  y(.^\^j,\  resemblances   between   the 

landing  of  a  I^Ioorish   corsair   on    the  ^i^^  .^,,,1  ^j^^.  j^^i-y  ^f  the  Captive  are 

coast  of  Valencia  ;  gives  an  account  of  ehietlv  in  the  first  jormida  of  the  play, 

the  suffei-ings  of  the  captives  taken  in  ^s  colnpared  with  Don  Quixote,  Parte 

this  descent,  as  well  as  the  sufleiings  j_  ^   ^q^ 


CiiAf.  XI]  THE    COMEDIAS    OF    CEKNANTES.  149 

seiitatioii  of  one  of  the  Coloquios  or  farces  of  Lope  de 
Rueda  by  the  slaves  in  their  prison-yard. 

Another  of  the  plays,  the  story  of  which  is  also  said 
to  be  true,  is  "  El  Gallardo  Espanol,"  or  The  Bold  Span- 
iard.^^  Its  hero,  named  Saavedra,  and  therefore,  per- 
haps, of  the  old  family  into  which  that  of  Cervantes 
had  long  before  intermarried,  goes  over  to  the  Moors 
for  a  time,  from  a  point  of  honor  about  a  lady,  but 
turns  out  at  last  a  true  Spaniard  in  everything  else,  as 
well  as  in  the  exaggeration  of  his  gallantry.  "  The 
Sultana"  is  founded  on  the  history  of  a  Spanish  cap- 
tive, who  rose  so  high  in  the  favor  of  the  Grand  Turk, 
that  she  is  represented  in  the  play  as  having  become, 
not  merely  a  favorite,  but  absolutely  the  Sultana,  and 
yet  as  continuing  to  be  a  Christian,  —  a  story  which 
was  readily  believed  in  Spain,  though  only  the  first 
part  of  it  is  true,  as  Cervantes  must  have  known,  since 
Catharine  of  Oviedo,  who  is  the  heroine,  was  his  con- 
temporary.^^ The  "  Rufian  Dichoso  "  is  a  Don 
*  Juan  in  licentiousness  and  crime,  who  is  con-  *  127 
verted  and  becomes  so  extraordinary  a  saint, 
that,  to  redeem  the  soul  of  a  dying  sinner.  Dona  Ana 
de  Trevino,  he  formally  surrenders  to  her  his  own 
virtues   and  good   works,   and    assumes    her   sins,  be- 

-*  The  part  we  should  least  willingly  Que  mi  peligro  es  notorio, 

suppose   to   be   true  — that  of  a  droll,  ?i  ya  no  estais  en  estas  horas 

.' ^     .             ...            ,            ,           ,            ,,  ',  Durmienao  en  el  aormitono. 

roistering  soldier,  who  gets  a  shameiul  Tom.  I.  p-  34. 

subsistence  by  begging  for  souls  in  Pur-  , ,  , ,          ,  ,              ,  .        ■     ■     ^   ■   ,_     ,_ 

gatory,  and  spending  on  his  own  glut-  f^^\''^  "^'''l}'  -^^^^  ^^i«  principal  intent 

tony  the  alms  he  receives  —  is  particu-  ^'^''"'                 Mezxlar  verdades 

larly  vouched  for  by  Cervantes.     ' '  Esto  con  fabulosos  inten'tor 

de  i)edir  para  las  animas  es  cuento  ver-  mi     r.       ■  i    -i     ^  ■        r  ,i       ^            n 

dadero,  qiie  yo  lo  vl."     How  so  indecent  Jhe  Spanish  doctrine  of  the  play  -  all 

an  exhibition  on  the  stage  could  be  per-  f°'  ,\°^«  /'"^  /  ,°''^~  ^\  •''*'"  V'V^'''^'^^ 

mitted   is  the  wonder.     Once,  for  in-  ^"^  *^^   .*^'°  following   lines   from   the 

stance,  when  in  great  personal  danger,  ^'^'^^"^  ■^^^'^^^'^  •  " 

he   prays  thus,    as  if  he   had   read  the  Que  por  reynar  y  por  amor  no  hay  culpa, 

' '  Clouds  "  of  Aristophanes  :  —  ^""^  °°  *^"^''  P'^'"''"" '  ^  ''^"^  '^'^^"'"^- 

2=  Se  vino  A  Constantinopla, 
Animas  de  Purgatorio  1  Creo  el  aiio  de  seiscientos. 

Favoreced  me,  Senoras  1  Jor.  III. 


150  THE    COMKDIAS    OF    CKUVANTES.  [rKKioD  II. 

filming  anew,  through  inc're(hhlo  siin'erhigs,  the  career 
of  penitence  and  reformation ;  all  of  which,  or  at  least 
M'hat  is  the  most  o-ross  and  revoltino-  in  it.  is  declared 
by  Cervantes,  as  an  e^'e-witness,  to  be  true.-'' 

The  remaining  four  pla\'s  are  no  less  various  in  their 
subjects,  and  no  less  lawless  in  the  modes  of  treating 
them  ;  and  all  the  eight  are  divided  into  three  j'ornadas, 
Avhich  Cervantes  uses  as  strictly  synonymous  with 
acts.-'  All  preserve  the  character  of  the  Fool,  who  in 
one  instance  is  an  ecclesiastic,^  and  all  extend  over 
any  amount  of  time  and  space  that  is  foimd  convenient 
to  the  action;  the  "  Rufian  Dichoso,"  for  instance, 
beginning  in  Seville  and  Toledo,  during  the  youth  of 
the  hero,  and  ending  in  Mexico  in  his  old  age.  The 
personages  represented  are  extravagant  in  their  num- 
ber, —  once  amounting  to  above  thirtv.  —  and  among 
them,  besides  every  variety  of  human  existences,  are 
Demons,  Souls  in  Purgatory,  Lucifer,  Fear,  Despair, 
Jealousy,  and  other  similar  phantasms.  The  truth  is, 
Cervantes  had  renounced  all  the  principles  of  the 
drama  which  his  discreet  canon  had  so  gravely  set 
forth  ten  years  earlier  in  the  First  Part  of  Don  Quixote; 
and  noAV,  wdiether  with  the  consent  of  his  will,  or  only 
with  that  of  his  poverty,  we  cannot  tell,  but,  as  may 
be  seen,  not  merely  in  the  plays  themselves,  but  in 
a  sort  of  induction  to  the   second  act  of  the   Kufian 

-''  The  f'huicli   prayers  on  tlie  sta^e  '^^  He  uses  the  words  as  convertil)li'. 

ill  this  play,  and  esjiecially  in  Jornada  Tom.  I.   i)p.   21,  22;    Tom.   II.  p.  2.5, 

II.,  and  the  sort  of  legal  contract  used  etc. 

to  ti-ansfer  the  merits  of  the  healthy  "■*  In  the   "  Banos  de  Argel,"  where 

saint  to  the  dying   sinner,  are  among  he  is  sometimes  indecorous  enough,  as 

the  revolting  exhihitions  of  the  Span-  when,    (Tom.     I.   ]>.    151,)  giving  the 

ish  drama  which  at  first  seem  inexpli-  Moors  the  reason  why  his  old  general, 

eahle,  but  which  any  one  who  reads  far  Don  John  of  Austria,  does  not  come  to 

ill  it  easily  understands.     Cervantes,  in  .subdue  A]gier.s,  he  sa3^s  :  — 
many  parts  of  this  strange  play,  avers 

the  truth   of  what  he  thus  represents.  Sin  du.la  que,  en  el  cielo, 

<<rn    1         J.     r    '          1     1  !•      <ini  Debia  de  hiilier  tn".in  giierra, 

iayiiig,  "Todoe.stofue  verdad     ;'    Jo-  Do  el  fJeneral  falt.iba, 

do  esto  fue  asf  "  ;    "  .\<i'  '^c  c\iciit;i  en  su  Y  4  Don  .luan  se  llevaron  para  serlo. 
hi.storia,"  etc. 


Chap.  XI.]        THE    ENTKEMESE.S    OF    C'EKVAXTE.S.  151 

Dichoso,  lie  had  *  f'ull\'  and  knowingly  adopted    *  128 
the  draniatie  theories  of  Lope's  school. 

The  ei<>ht  Entrenieses  are  better  than  the  ei^-ht  full- 
length  plays.  They  are  short  farces,  generally  in  j 
prose,  with  a  slight  plot,  and  sometimes  with  none, 
and  were  intended  merely  to  amuse  an  audience  in  the 
intervals  between  the  acts  of  the  longer  pieces.  "^  The 
Spectacle  of  Wonders,"  for  instance,  is  only  a  series  of 
practical  tricks  to  frighten  the  persons  attending  a.  \ 
puppet-show^,  so  as  to  persuade  them  that  they  see  ' 
wdiat  is  reallv  not  on  the  staije.  '"  The  Watchful 
Guard"  interests  us,  because  he  seems  to  have  drawni 
the  character  of  the  soldier  from  his  own  ;  and  the 
date  of  1611,  which  is  contained  in  it,  may  indicate  the 
time  when  it  was  written.  "  The  Jealous  Old  Man  "  is 
a  reproduction  of  the  tale  of  "  The  Jealous  Estremadu- 
rian,"  with  a  different  and  more  spirited  conclusion. 
And  the  "  Cueva  de  Salamanca  "  is  one  of  those  jests 
at  the  expense  of  husbands  which  are  common  enough 
on  the  Spanish  stage,  and  were,  no  doubt,  equally 
common  in  Spanish  life  and  manners.  All,  indeed, 
have  ;in  air  of  truth  and  reality,  wdiich,  whether  they 
were  founded  in  fact  or  not,  it  was  evidently  the 
author's  purpose  to  give  them. 

But  there  was  an  insuperable  difficulty  in  the  way 
of  all  his  efforts  on  the  stage.  Cervantes  had  not  , 
dramatic  talent,  nor  a  clear  perception  how  dramatic  I 
efiects  were  to  be  produced.  From  the  time  when  he 
wrote  the  "  Trato  de  Argel,"  which  was  an  exhibition 
of  the  sufferings  he  had  himself  witnessed  and  shared 
in  Algiers,  he  seemed  to  suppose  that  whatever  was 
both  absolutely  true  and  absolutely  striking  could  be 
produced  with  effect  on  the  theatre  ;  thus  confounding 
the  province  of  romantic  fiction  an<l  story-telling  with 


1-52 


THE    COMEDIAS    OF    CEKVANTES. 


[Peuidu  11. 


that  of  tlieatricul  representjitioii,  and  often  relying  on 
trivial  incidents  and  an  liinnble  style  for  effects  which 
could  be  produced  only  by  ideal  elevation  and  inci- 
dents so  combined  by  a  dramatic  instinct  as  to  produce 
a  dramatic  interest. 

This  Avas,   probably,  owing  in  part  to  tlie  different 

direction  of  his  original  genius,  and  in  pait 
*  120     to  the  condition  *  of  the  theatre,  which   in  his 

youth  he  had  found  open  to  every  kind  of  ex- 
periment and  really  settled  in  nothing.  But  whatever 
may  have  been  the  cause  of  his  failure,  the  failure 
itself  lias  been  a  great  stumbling-block  in  the  way  of 
♦Spanish  critics,  who  have  resorted  to  somewhat  violent 
means  in  order  to  prevent  the  reputation  of  Cervantes 
from  being  burdened  with  it.  Thus,  Bias  de  Nasarre, 
the  king's  librarian,  —  who,  in  1749,  published  the 
fii'st  edition  of  these  unsuccessful  dramas  that  had  ap- 
peared since  they  were  printed  above  a  century  earlier, 
—  would  persuade  us,  in  his  Preface,  that  they  were 
written  l>y  Cervantes  to  parody  and  caricature  the 
theatre  of  Lope  de  Vega ;  -^  though,  setting  aside  all 


■^  Sec  tlio  early  jwit  of  tlu'  "  Prologo 
<lel  (jue  hace  iiiipriiuii'."  1  am  not  cer- 
tain that  Bias  de  Nasarre  was  perfectl)' 
fair  in  all  this  ;  for  he  printed,  in  1732, 
an  edition  of  Avellaneda's  continuation 
(if  Don  Qnixote,  in  tlic  Preface  to  which 
lie  says  that  he  thinks  the  character  of 
Avellanedn's  Sancho  is  more  natnial 
tiian  that  of  Cei'vantes's  Sancho  ;  that 
the  Second  Part  of  Cervantes's  Don 
Quixote  is  taken  from  Avellaneda's  ; 
and  that,  in  its  essential  merits,  the 
work  of  Avfdlaneda  is  eipial  to  that  of 
Cervantes.  "No  se  puede  dis])Utar," 
lie  .says,  "  la  f^loria  de  la  invencion  do 
Cervaiiti-s,  aunipK!  no  cs  inferior  la  de 
la  iniitacioii  de.  Avellanc^da  "  ;  to  which 
he  adds  afterwards,  "  Es  cierto  (jue  es 
nece.sario  mayor  esfnerzo  de  inf^enio 
para  afiadir  a  las  primeras  invenciones, 
<pie  jiara  hacerlas."  (See  As-ellaneda, 
JJon    Quixote,     Madrid,    180r>,    l-2iiio. 


Tom.  I.  ]>.  34.)  Now,  the  Jidcio,  or 
Preface,  from  wliich  these  opinions  art- 
taken,  and  which  is  really  the  work  of 
Na.sarre,  is  announced  by  him,  not  as 
liis  own,  lint  as  tlnr  work  of  an  anony- 
mous friend,  jirecisely  as  if  he  were  not 
willing  to  avow  such  opinions  under  his 
own  name.  (Pellicer's  Vida  de  Cer- 
vantes, ed.  Don  Quixote,  I.  |).  clxvi.) 
In  this  way  a  disingenuous  look  is  given 
to  what  would  otherwise  have  been  only 
an  al)siirdity  ;  and  what,  taken  in  con- 
nection with  this  rejirint  of  Cervantes's 
poor  dramas  and  the  Preface  to  tlieni, 
seems  like  a  willingness  to  let  down  tin; 
reputation  of  a  genius  that  Nasarn; 
could  not  comjireliend. 

It  is  intimated,  in  an  anonymous 
pamphlet,  called  "  Examen  Critico  di-l 
Tomo  Primero  del  Anti(iuixote,"  (Ma- 
drid, ISOii,  l-2mo,)  that  Nasarre  had 
sviiioatliies  with  AvclJaiicda  as  an  Ara- 


Chap.   XI.]  THE    COMEDIAS    OF    CERVANTES. 


1. 


).> 


tluit  at  oiico  presents  itself  iVoin  the  personal  relations 
of  the  parties,  nothing  ean  be  more  serious  than  the 
interest  Cervantes  took  in  the  fate  of  his  plays,  and  the 
confidence  he  expressed  in  their  dranuitic  merit  ;  while, 
at  the  same  time,  not  a  line  has  ever  been  pointed 
out  as  a  paiody  in  any  one  of  them.''" 

*This  position  being  untenable,  Lani])illas,  *  130 
who,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  last  century,  wrote 
ii  lonu'  defence  of  Spanish  literature  ai2:ainst  the  sui»-o'es- 
tions  of  Tiraboschi  and  Bettinelli  in  Italy,  gravely  main- 
tains that  Cervantes  sent,  indeed,  eight  plays  and  eight 
Entremeses  to  the  booksellers,  but  that  the  booksellers 
took  the  liberty  to  change  them,  and  printed  eight  others 
with  his  name  and  Preface.  It  should  not,  how^ever,  be 
forgotten  that  Cervantes  lived  to  prepare  two  works 
after  this,  and  if  such  an  insult  had  been  ojffered  him, 
the  country,  judging  from  the  way  in  which  he  treated 
the  less  gross  oflence  of  Avellaneda,  would  have  been 
tilled  with  his  reproaches  and  remonstrances;^^ 


^oiiese ;  and  tlie  pamphlet  in  uncstion 
being  mulevstood  to  be  the  work  of  J. 
A.  Pellieer,  the  editor  of  Don  Quixote, 
this  intimation  deserves  notice.  It  may 
be  a(Uled,  that  Nasan'e  belonged  to  the 
French  school  of  the  eighteenth  centnry 
in  Sjiain,  —  a  school  that  saw  little 
merit  in  the  older  Spanish  drama.  His 
remarks  o!i  it,  in  his  preface  to  Cer- 
vantes, nnd  on  the  contemporary  Eng- 
lish school  of  comedy,  show  this  plainly 
enough,  and  leave  no  donbt  that  his 
knowledge  upon  the  whole  sul)ject  was 
inconsiderable,  and  his  taste  as  bad  as 
it  well  could  be. 

3'^  The  extravagant  opinion,  that  these 
])lays  of  Cervantes  were  written  to  dis- 
credit the  plays  then  in  ftishion  on  the 
stage,  just  as  the  Don  Quixote  was  writ- 
ten to  discredit  the  fashionable  books 
of  chivalry,  did  not  pass  uncontradicted 
at  the  time.  The  year  after  it  was 
published,  a  pamphlet  appeared,  enti- 
tled "La  Sinrazon  imj)ugnada  y  Beata 
de  Lavapies,  Colocpiio  (Jritico  apuntado 
al  disparatado  Prologo  ([ue  sirve  de  de- 


lantal  (segun  nos  dice  su  Autoi')  a  las 
Coniedias  de  Miguel  de  Cervantes,  com- 
puesto  poi'  Don  Josej)!!  Carrillo  "  (Ma- 
drid, 17.50,  -ito,  pp.  25).  It  is  a  spir- 
ited little  tract,  chiefly  devoted  to  a 
defenci!  of  Lope  and  of  Calderon,  though 
the  point  about  Cervantes  is  not  for- 
gotten (pp.  13-15).  But  in  the  same 
year  a  longer  work  appeared  on  the 
same  side,  called  "  Discur.so  Critico 
sobre  el  Origen,  Calidad,  y  Estado  pre- 
sente  de  las  Comedias  de  Espana,  con- 
tra el  Dictamen  que  las  supone  cor- 
rompidas,  etc.,  por  un  Ingenio  de  (!sta 
Corte"  (Madrid,  1750,  4to,  p]).  285). 
The  author  was  a  lawyer  in  Madrid,  I). 
Thomas  Zabaleta,  and  he  writes  with  a.s 
little  jdiilosophy  and  judgment  as  the 
other  Spanish  critics  of  his  time  ;  but 
he  treats  Bias  de  Nasarre  with  small 
ceremony. 

^1  "  Ensayo  Historico-apologetico  de 
la  Literatura  Espailola,"  Madrid,  1789, 
8vo,  Tom.  VI.  pp.  170,  etc.  "Supri- 
miendo  las  (|ue  verdaderamcnte  eran  de 
el,"  are  the  bold  words  of  the  critic. 


1~A  SICKNESS  AND  DEATH  OF  CEKVAXTES.    [Periud  II. 

Nothing  remains,  tliereibre,  but  to  coniess  —  what 
seems,  indeed,  to  be  quite  incontestable  —  that  Cer- 
vantes wrote  several  phiys  which  fell  seriously  below 
-what  might  have  been  hoped  from  him.  Passages, 
indeed,  may  l)e  found  in  them  where  his  o-enius  asserts 
itself  '•  The  Labyrinth  of  Love,"  for  instance,  has  a 
chivalrous  air  and  plot  that  make  it  interesting ;  ;ind 
the  Entremes  of  ''The  Pretended  Bisca3'an  "  contains 
."Specimens  of  the  peculiar  humor  with  which  we  always 
associate  the  name  of  its  author.  Others  are  marked 
with  the  poetical  genius  that  never  deserted  him. 
But  it  is  quite  too  probable  that  he  had  made  u\) 
his  mind  to  sacrifice  liis  own  opinions  respecting  the 
drama  to  the  popular  taste  ;  and  if  the  constraint  he 
thus  laid  upon  himself  was  one  of  tlie  causes  of  his  fail- 
ure, it  only  affords  another  groimd  for  our  inter- 
*  131  est  in  the  fate  of  one  whose  *  whole  career  was 
so  deeply  marked  with  trials  and  calamity .*- 
But  the  life  of  Cervantes,  w^th  all  its  troubles  and 
sufferings,  was  now  fast  drawing  to  a  close.  In  Octo- 
ber of  the  same  year,  1615,  he  published  the  Second 
Part  of  his  Don  Quixote ;  and  in  its  Dedication  to  the 
Coimt  de  Lemos,  who  had  for  some  time  flivored  him.*^ 
he  alludes  to  his  failing  health,  and  intimates  that  he 
hardly  looked  for  the  continuance  of  life  bej'ond  a  few 
months.  Ilis  spirits,  however,  which  had  survived  his 
sufferings  in  the  Levant,  at  Algiers,  and  in  prisons  at 

■«  Tlioro  <aii  !•(•  littlo  doubt,  I  tliiiik,  Cervantf-s  ;  the  most  agreeable  proof  of 

that  this  \v;us  the  case,  if  wc  conii)ar(t  wliich  is  to  1k'  found  in  the  Dedication 

the  o])inions  expressed  by  the  canon  on  of  the  Second  Part  of  Don  Quixote,      i 

tlie  subject  of  the  drama  in  the  48th  am  afraid,    however,   that   tlieir  favor 

chapterof  the  First  Pait  of  Don  Quix-  was  a  little  too  much  in  the  nature  of 

ote,    HJO.o,    and    the    opinions    in   the  alms.     Indeed,  it  is  called  liwosua  the 

opening  of  the  secon<l  jonuala  of  the  only  time  it  is  known  to  be  mentioned 

"liufian  Dichoso,"  IGl.'J.  by  any  contemporary  of  Cervantes.     See 

»*  It  h;ia  been  generally  concede<I  Sala.s '  P>arbadillo,  in  the  Dedication  of 
that  die  Count  de  Lemos  and  the  Arch-  the  "  Estafeta  del  Dios  Momo,"  Ma- 
bishop  of  Toledo  r.v..'    I        I    i^>i-,tc-d  drid,  1G27,  \2u\o. 


CiiAP.   XI. J     SICKXESS  A.NL)  DEATH  OF  CEKVAXTES.  100 

home,  and  which,  as  he  approached  his  seventieth 
year,  had  been  sufficient  to  produce  a  work  hke  the 
Second  Part  of  Don  Quixote,  did  not  forsake  him, 
now  that  his  strength  was  wasting  away  under  the 
inlhience  of  disease  and  okl  n^e.  On  the  contrary, 
with  unabated  vivacity  he  urged  forward  his  I'omance 
of  "  Persiles  and  Siu'ismunda"  :  anxious  onh' that  hfe 
enougrh  shouhl  ))e  allowed  him  to  finish  it,  as  the  last 
offering  of  his  gratitude  to  his  generous  patron.  In 
the  spring  he  went  to  Esquivias,  where  was  the  little 
estate  he  had  received  with  his  wife,  and  after  his  re- 
turn wrote  a  Preface  to  his  unpublished  romance,  full 
of  a  delightfid  and  simple  humor,  in  which  he  tells  a 
pleasant  story  of  being  overtaken  in  his  ride  back  to 
Madrid  by  a  medical  student,  who  gave  him  much 
good  advice  about  the  dropsy,  under  which  he  was 
suffering ;  to  which  he  replied  that  his  pulse  had  al- 
ready warned  him  that  he  was  not  to  live  beyond  the 
next  Sunday.  "  And  so,"  says  he,  at  the  conclusion  of 
this  remarkaljle  Preface,  ''  farewell  to  jesting,  farewell 
my  merry  humors,  farewell  my  gay  friends,  for  I  feel 
that  I  am  dying,  and  have  no  desire  but  soon  to  see 
you  happy  in  the  other  life." 

*  In  this  temper  he  prejjared  to  meet  death,  *  132 
<as  many  Catholics  of  strong  religious  impres- 
sions were  accusttmied  to  do  at  that  time;'^^  and.  on 
the  2d  of  April,  entered  the  order  of  Franciscan  friars, 
wdiose  habit  he  had  assumed  three  years  before  at  Al- 
cala.      Still,    however,  his   feelings   as   an    author,   his 

34  "  ^Vho,  to  be  sure  of  Paradise,  for  he  makes  liis  reliLnou.s  manieLl  man 

Dying  put  on  the  weeds  of  Dommic,  +  ,11  rn,„ ^■^,   <-        1  ■     1     ii    i     1       u 

Or  in  Franciscan  think  to  pass  disguised-  *'?^  Cliaroii  that  oil  his  death-bed,  when 

\if->„  .„  A',1 1 ' .       u-1     1     4.1         4,1  "IS  friends  asked  hhn   to  imt  on  the 

Allonho  \  aides  —  it  he  be  the  author  i,„k;4-  ,f  uj.   t?         •     i                    1  ..i 

f>f +I10  ..a..,..,.i-oKi„  "r^-  1         1    i\r          •  nabit  01  St.  1<  rancis,  he  answered  them  : 

01  tne  remarkable  "  Uialogo  di^  Meruurio  ,(Tr                          i,  •            i.                   1 

y  Caron,"  about  1.530  (s"e  ant,-.,  Chap.  •  H«-"'a»os,  ya  sabeis  quanto  me guardc. 

v.,  note  42)  -  had  notions  on  this  sub-  '''""l^.^'"  '^'  '''^«^"'"- ''  ""'«^"^° '  l''"'^  '1"'= 
ject  such  as  Milton  had,  and  much  <V^^r' ^  ^'^}^ ^''!^''' '""S^^^' 
wiser  notions  than  tlios..  of  Cervantes  ;      ^  ^'°'  "        ^^-  ^^''^^'  ^'-  ^ '  - 


15G 


SICKNESS  AND  DEATU  OF  CEKV ANTES.      [Pekiod  II. 


vivacity,  and  his  personal  gratitude  did  not  deseit 
luui.  On  the  18th  of  April  he  received  the  extreme 
unction,  and  the  next  day  wrote  a  Dedication  of  his 
'•  Persiles  and  Sigismunda "'  to  the  Count  de  Lenios, 
marked,  to  an  extraordinary  degree,  with  his  natural 
humor,  and  with  the  solemn  thoughts  that  hecanie  his 
situation.''  Tlie  last  known  act  of  his  life,  therefore, 
shows  that  he  still  })ossessed  his  faculties  in  perfect 
serenity,  and  four  days  afterwards,  on  the  23d  of 
April,  1016,  he  died,  at  the  age  of  sixty-eight.^^  He 
was  huried,  as  he  probably  had  desired,  in  the  convent 
of  the  Xims  of  the  Trinity  ;  Ijut  a  few  years  afterwards 
this  convent  was  removed  to  another  part  of  the  city, 
and  what  became  of  the  ashes  of  the  greatest  genius 
of  his  country  is,  from  that  time,  wholly  unknown.^' 


^  Tlie  only  case  I  recollect  at  all 
]iarall('l  is  that  of  the  graceful  Dedica- 
tion of  Addison's  works  to  his  friend 
and  successor  in  office,  Secretary  Craggs, 
which  is  dated  June  4,  1719  ;  thirteen 
days  before  his  death.  But  the  Dedi- 
cation of  Cervantes  is  much  more  cor- 
dial and  spirited. 

*'  Bowie  says  (Anotaciones  a  Don 
Quixote,  Salisi)ui'y,  1781,  4to,  Pi-61ogo 
ix,  note)  that  Cervantes  died  on  the 
same  day  with  Shakespeare  ;  but  this 
is  a  mistake,  the  calendar  not  having 
then  been  altered  in  England,  and  there 
being,  therefore,  a  difference  between 
that  and  the  Spanish  calendar  of  ten 
days. 

^"  Nor  was  any  monument  raised  to 
Cervantes,  in  Spain,  until  1835,  when 
a  bronze  statue  of  hun  larger  than  life, 
cast  at  Rome  by  Sola  of  Barcelona,  was 
placed  in  the  Plaza  del  Estamento  at 
Madrid.  (See  El  Artista,  Madrid,  1834, 
183.".,  Tom.  I.  p.  20."j  ;  Tom.  II.  p.  12  ; 
and  ScnianarioPiiitoresco,  1836,  p.  249.) 
Of  the  head  of  this  statue,  1  jiossess  a 
beautiful  copy,  in  marble,  made  by 
Sola  himself  in  18.5.0,  for  my  friend  Don 
Cnillcrmo  Picanl,  a  Spaniard  of  no  com- 
mon intellectual  tastes  and  accomplish- 
jneiits,  who  pn-scntcd  it  to  me  in  ]S.')9. 
Jiefore  183.'j  I  lM'li(;ve  there  was  nothing 
that  approached  nearer  to  a  monument 


in  honor  of  Cervantes  throughout  the 
world  than  an  ordinary  medal  of  him, 
struck  in  1818,  at  Paris,  as  one  of  a 
large  series  which  would  have  been  ab- 
surdly incomjdete  without  it  ;  and  a 
small  medallion  or  bust,  that  was  ])laced 
in  1834,  at  the  expen.se  of  an  individual, 
over  the  door  of  the  house  in  the  Calle 
de  los  Francos,  where  he  died. 

As  to  the  true  likeness  of  Cervantes 
—  vcrd  effi/fies  —  there  has  been  a  dis- 
cussion going  on  for  nearly  a  hundred 
years,  which  is  not  likely  soon  to  end. 
The  portrait  commonlj-  current  and  ac- 
cepted derives  its  main  authority  from 
an  old  picture  ]>elonging  to  the  Koyal 
Spanish  Academy,  who  prefixed  an  en- 
graving of  it  to  their  magnificent  edi- 
tion of  the  Don  Quixote  in  1780  and 
ga\-e  their  rea.sons  for  it  in  the  Prologo 
to  that  work  (Sect,  xvii-xx).  Navar- 
rete,  who  went  with  his  accustomed 
exactness  and  fidelity  over  the  whole 
ground  again,  in  his  Life  of  Cervaiites, 
(Madrid,  1819,  yi^.  196,  536-539,)  was 
satisfied  with  this  decision  of  the  Acad- 
emy. Several  other  ])ortraits,  however, 
have  since  been  brought  forward,  but 
no  one  of  them,  I  think,  lias  been 
found,  in  the  judgment  of  the  curious, 
to  rest  on  sulJicient  autliority.  The 
la.st  of  thiiu,  mid  the  one  which,  from 
the  discussions  that  accompany  it,  comes 


ClIAI'.    XI.] 


POUTKAITS    OF    CEKV ANTES. 


!-■ 


il 


with  soiuf  ])n'ti'ii.sii)ii  lidoi'c  tlic  world, 
i.s  one  prclixi'd  to  a  collection  of  "  Docu- 
nicutos  Nuevos  para  ilustrar  la  Vida  de 
Cervantes,"  published  in  18(54  at  Seville 
by  Don  Jose  ^laria  Asensio  y  Toletlo. 
The  facts  in  tlie  case,  as  he  gives  them, 
are  these  :  — 

In  1850,  Don  Jose  read  an  anonymous 
manuscript,  whose  date  he  does  not 
intiniat(>,  but  which  belonged  to  Don 
Rafael  Monti  of  Siiville,  and  which  was 
entitled  "  Relacion  de  Cosas  de  Se villa 
de  1591)  a  1640."  In  this  MS.  he  found 
a  notice  that,  in  ^ne  of  .six  j)ictures 
painted  by  Francisco  Paclieeo  and  Alon- 
so  Vazijuez  for  the  "C'asa  (Jiaude  de  la 
Merced,"  there  was  a  portrait  of  Cer- 
vantes with  that  of  other  persons  who 
had  been  in  Algiers,  and  that  the  pic- 
ture in  question  represented  "los  Pa- 
dres de  la  Redencion  con  cautivos." 
In  1864  Don  Jose  thinks  that  he  found 
this  statement  comj)letely  contirmed  in 
a  M.S.  on  the  "  Verdaderos  Retratos  de 
ilustres  y  memorables  Varones  por  Fran- 
cisco Pacheco,"  setting  forth  that  he 
had  painted  a  picture  of  Father  Juan 
Bernal,  an  eminent  ecclesiastic  (see  aiife, 
p.  114,  note)  who  had  been  in  Africa. 
Don  Jose  then  informs  ns  that  these 
six  pictures  are  in  the  "  Musbo  Pro- 
vincial" of  Seville,  and  that  one  of 
them,  "No.  19,  San  Pedro  de  Nolasco 
en  lino  de  los  pasos  de  su  Vida,"  is,  as 
he  ])elieves,  the  one  referred  to,  because 
he  thinks  that  it  sets  forth  the  scene 
of  an  embarkation  from  Africa  of  Padres 
Redentores  with  ransomed  captives,  and 
that  one  of  them,  the  barquiuv,  or  boat- 
man, with  a  boat-hook  in  his  hand,  is 
the  figure  of  Cervantes  and  a  true  like- 
ness of  him.  Docunientos,  pp.  i,  ii,  iv, 
X,  xi,  68-82. 

Setting  aside  all  minor  difficulties  and 
objections  to  this  theory,  of  which  there 
are  several,  there  are  two  others  that 
seem  to  me  to  be  decisive.  1.  There  is 
no  reason  to  snppo.se  that  this  "No. 
19"  contains  a  likeness  of  Padre  Ber- 
nal, who  is  not  claimed  to  have  been 
painted  by  Pacheco  as  part  of  this  or  of 
any  other  historical  picture,  but  only 
as  a  portrait,  —  Pacheco's  phrase  being, 
"Yo  le  retrate."  2.  Thfere  is  no  rea- 
son to  suppose  that  any  picture  which 
might  contain  a  i)ortrait  of  Bernal  would 
also  contain  a  portrait  of  Cervantes,  the 
two  having  never  before  been  mentioned 


together.  Now,  as  the  I'ailure  of  cither 
of  these  po.stulates  is  fatal  to  the  con- 
jecture of  Don  Jose,  it  does  not  seem 
needful  to  go  further. 

Ilartzenbusidi,  in  a  letter  jirefixed  to 
the  "  Documentos,"  (p.  xvii,)  thinks 
that  the  head  of  the  ljii.rqiitr<i,  and  the 
head  authorized  by  th(^  Academy  as 
that  of  Cervantes,  may  represent  the 
same  person  at  different  periods  of  life, 
— piiedot  representar  una  persona,  ec.  ; 
and  Don  Jo.se  (p.  87)  seems  to  agree 
with  Hai-tzenbu.sch.  I  do  not,  indeed, 
myself  see  the  resemblance  indicated 
between  the  two  ;  but,  if  there  be  any, 
tlie  hirqncro's  head  would  seem  to  coun- 
tenance the  genuineness  of  that  of  the 
Academy,  just  so  far  as  that  of  thi< 
bnrqucro  is  believed  to  represent  Cer- 
vantes. It  is  admitted,  however,  that 
the  handsome  young  boatman  is  very 
unlike  the  desciiption  of  himself  gi\-en 
by  Cervantes  in  the  Prologo  to  his  No- 
velas,  1613  ;  while,  on  the  other  hanil, 
we  cannot  help  agi-eeing  with  the  cau- 
tions Navarrete,  that  the  old  yiicture 
of  the  Academy  is  "  conforme  en  todo  " 
with  this  very  minute  description. 
Villa,  p.  196. 

The  great  misfortune  in  the  case  is, 
that  the  portrait  of  Cervantes  which  he 
himself,  in  the  Prologo  to  his  Novelas, 
tells  us  was  painted  by  "el  famoso 
Juan  de  Jauregui,"  is  not  known  to 
exi.st,  although  it  has  been  anxiously 
sought  for.  It  seems  to  have  been 
entirely  satisfactory  to  Cervantes,  and 
would  have  settled  all  ipiestions.  See 
post.  Vol.  III.  p.  34. 

It  may  not  be  amiss  to  add  here,  that 
in  the  description  of  his  own  person,  so 
often  referred  to  in  this  note,  Cervantes 
says  that  he  was  a  stutterer  or  stam- 
merer, tarlamuclo ;  and  that  the  expres- 
sion of  the  mouth  in  the  portrait  of  th(^ 
Academy  and  in  the  statue  of  Sola 
seems  to  me  to  indicate  this  defect  of 
utterance,  just  as  it  is  indicated  in  the 
heads  of  Demosthenes  that  have  come 
down  to  us  from  antiiiuity,  and  as  it  is 
indicated  by  the  genius  of  Jliidiael  An- 
gelo  in  his  well-known  statue  of  Mo.ses. 
(Visconti,  Iconografia  Greca,  8vo,  Mi- 
lano,  1823,  Tom.  I.  p.  335.)  If  I  am 
right  in  this,  it  is  a  confirmation  of  the 
genuineness  of  the  portrait  sanctioned 
by  the  Academy. 


1  o« 
iOi 


*  C  H  A  ?  T  E  R    XII. 


CERVANTES. HIS     PERSILES     AXD     SIGISJIINDA,     AND     ITS     CHARACTER. HIS 

DON     liLlXOTE.  —  CIRCUMSTANCES     UNDER    WHICH     IT     WAS     WRITTEN.  ITS 

PURPOSE    AND    GENERAL    PLAN. 1'VIM     FIRST. AVELLAJiKDA. PART    SEC- 
OND.  CHARACTER    OF    THE    MIIOLE. CHARACTER    OF    CERVANTES. 

Six    months    after    the    death    of    Cervantes,^     the 

license  for  pubhshing  "  Persiles  and  Sigisniunda  "  was 

granted    to    his   widow,    and    in    1617    it   was 

*  134     ])rinted.'-       His    purpose  *  seems  to  have   been 


1  At  tlic  time  of  his  death  Cervantes 
seems  to  have  had  tlie  fon<)\viiig  work.s 
more  or  h'ss  prepared  for  the  ])res.s, 
namely:  "Las  Semanas  del  Jardiii," 
announced  as  early  as  1613  ;  —  the  Sec- 
ond Part  of  "Galatea,"  announced  in 
161.5  ;  —  the  "  Bernardo,"  mentioned  in 
the  Dedication  of  "  Per.siles,"  just  be- 
fore he  died  ;  —  and  s-everal  plays,  re- 
ferred to  in  the  Preface  to  those  he 
published,  and  in  the  Api)endix  to  the 
"Yiagedel  Parnaso."  All  the.se  works 
aie  now  ])robably  lost.  Others  have 
been  attributed  to  him.  Of  the  "  P.u- 
scapie"  I  shall  .speak  in  the  Appendix, 
and  of  two  apocryjihal  cha))ters  of  Don 
Quixote  in  a  note  to  this  chapter.  To 
these  may  be  added  a  letter  on  .i  ])()pu- 
lar  festival,  part  of  which  is  juinted  in 
the  twentieth  volume  of  the  Biblioteca 
de  Autores  Espaiioles,  1851,  p.  xxvii. 

'■^  The  iirst  e'dition  of  Per.siles  y  Sigis- 
niunda was  printed  with  the  following; 
title  :  "  Los  Traliajos  de  Persiles  y 
Sigisinunda,  Historia  Setentrional,  ])or 
M.  de  Cervantes  Saavedra,  dirit^ida," 
etc.,  Madrid,  1617,  8vo,  por  .hum  de 
la  Cuesta  ;  and  rejnints  of  it  api)eared 
in  Valencia,  I'amplona,  Barcelona,  and 
Brussels,  tlie  same  year.  I  have  a  co])y 
of  this  first  edition,  and  of  the  one 
]trinted  at  Pamplona  the  same  year  ; 
but  the  most  af^reeable  one  is  that  of 
.Madrid,  18(i2,  8vo,  2  torn.  There  is 
an  Knglish  tran.slation  by  M.  L.,  i)ub- 
lished  1619,  which  I  have  never  seen  ; 


Init  from  whicli  I  doubt  not  Fletcher 
borrowed  the  materials  for  that  part 
of  tlie  Persiles  which  he  has  u.sed,  or 
rather  abused,  in  his  "  Custom  of  the 
Country,"  acted  as  early  as  1628,  but 
not  printed  till  1647  ;  the  A'ery  names 
of  the  personages  being  sometimes  the 
.same.  See  Persiles,  Book  1.  c.  12  and 
13  ;  and  compare  Book  II.  c.  4  with 
tin;  English  ])lay.  Act  IV.  scene  3,  and 
Book  III.  c.  6,  etc.  with  Act  II.  scene 
4,  etc.  Sometimes  we  have  almost 
literal  translations,  like  the  follow- 
ing :  — 

"  Sois  Ca.stellano  ? "  me  pregiinto  e.ii 
su  lengua  Portugue.sa.  "  No,  Sehora," 
le  respond!  yo,  "sino  forastero,  y  bien 
lejos  de  e.sta  tieira."  "  Pues  aunque 
fuerades  mil  veees  Ca.stellano,"  replico 
ella,  "os  librara  yo,  si  jnidiei'a,  y  os 
librare  si  puedo  ;  subid  ]>or  cima  deste 
lecho,  y  entraos  deba.xo  de  este  tapiz,  y 
entraos  en  un  hueco  que  aqui  hallareis, 
y  no  OS  movais,  que  si  la  justicia  vi- 
niere,  me  tendni  respeto,  y  creera  lo 
(|ue  yo  quisiere  decides."  Persiles, 
Lib.  ill.  cap.  6. 

In  Fletcher  we  have  it  as  follows  :  — 

Giiioninr.     \re  you  a  Ciu«tilian  ? 

Hiitilin      Xo,  Miidiini :  Italy  cUiims  my  birtli. 

(riii.     I  a.^ik  not 
With  piirpiisi'  to  betray  you.     If  you  were 
Ten  thousand  times  a  .Spaniard,  the  nation 
AVe  I'ortujfals  most  hate,  1  yet  would  save  you, 
If  it  lay  in  my  power.     Lift  up  these  hanpngs; 
Reliind  my  beil's  head  there  's  a  hollow  place, 
Into  whicii  enter. 

[Kutilio  retires  behind  the  bed. 


CnAi'.  XII.]        TIIK    I'KKSILKS    AND    SKJiyMUNDA.  159 

to  write  a  serious  romance,  which  should  l)e  to  this 
species  of  composition  what  the  Don  Quixote  is  to 
comic  I'omance.  So  much,  at  least,  may  be  inferred 
from  the  manner  in  which  it  is  spoken  of  In'  himself 
and  by  his  friends.  For  in  the  Dedication  of  the  Sec- 
ond Part  of  Don  (Quixote  he  says,  '•  It  will  Ije  either 
the  worst  or  the  l)est  book  of  amusement  in  the  lan- 
iTuao'e "  :  addino-,  tliat  his  friends  thouo-ht  it  a(hni- 
rable  ;  and  Valdivielso,'"^  after  his  death,  said  he  had 
equalled  or  surpassed  in  it  all  his  former  efforts. 

But  serious  romantic  fiction,  which  is  peculiarly  the 
offspring  of  modern  civilization,  was  not  3et  far 
enough  developed  to  enable  one  like  Cervantes  to 
obtain  a  high  degree  of  success  in  it,  especially  as  the 
natural  bent  of  his  genius  was  to  humorous  fiction. 
The  imaginary  travels  of  Lucian,  three  or  four  Greek 
romances,  and  the  romaTices  of  chivalry,  were  all  he 
had  to  guide  him  ;  for  anj'thing  approaching  nearer 
to  the  proper  modern  novel  than  some  of  his  own 
tales  had  not  yet  been  imagined.  Perhaps  his  first 
impulse  was  to  write  a  romance  of  chivalry,  modified 
by  the  spirit  of  the  age,  and  free  from  the  absurdities 
which  abound  in  the  romances  that  had  been  written 
before  his  time.*     But  if  he  had  such  a  thought,  the 

So;  — but  from  this  stir  not.  8vo,  Vol.  XI.  p.  239.  The  earlie.st 
If  the  officers  come,  as  you  expect  they  will  do,  trniislation  T  TPinVrnViPV  to  lvivt>  '^I'cii  o)' 
I  knowthev  owe  such  reverence  to  my  lodgings,  "ai'^iation  1  lemeniDtl  to  liaM  S(  ( 11  01 
That  they  will  easily  give  credit  to  me  the  Peisile.s  and  blgismunda  is  111  I"  reiicll 
And  .-iearch  no  further.  hy  Fmii(;ois  de  Ro.ssot,  Paris,  It!]  S  ;  hut 
Act  II.  So.  4.  ^jjg  ^pg|-  jg  j^jj  anoii_vmou.s  one  in  tlie 
Other  parallel  passages  might  he  pure.st  English,  (London,  1854,)  under- 
cited  ;  but  it  should  not  be  forgotten,  stood  to  be  by  Miss  L.  D.  Stanley  ;  but 
that  there  is  one  striking  difference  be-  in  which  a  good  many  passages,  are 
tween  the  two  ;  for  that,  whcn^a-s  the  omitted,  ex.  gr.  Book  III.  Chaps.  VI., 
Persiles  is  a  l)ook  of  great  purity  of  VI 1.,  VI II.,  etc.  I  have  also  an  Ital- 
thought  and  feeling,  "The  Custom  of  ian  one  by  Francesco  Ella,  ijrinted  at 
the  Country"  is  one  of  the  most  inde-  Venice,  1626. 

cent  plays  in  the  language  ;    so  inde-  ^  In  the  A|irobacion,  dated  Septein- 

eent,  indeed,  that  Diyden  rather  boldly  ber  9,  1616,  ed.  1802,  Tom.  I.  p.  vii. 

says  it  is  worse  in  this  particular  than  *  This  may  be  fairly  suspected  from 

all  his  own  jilays  put  together.      Dry-  the  beginning  of  the  48th  chapter  of 

den's  Works,  Scott's  ed.,  l^ondon,  1808,  the  First  I'art  of  Don  Quixote. 


160  THE    PERSILES    AXD    SIGISMUNDA.        [PEiaoD  IL 

success  of  his  own  Don  Quixote  almost  necessarily 
prevented  him  from  attempting  to  put  it  in  execution. 
He  therefore  looked  rather  to  the  Greek  romances, 
and.  as   I'ai'  as   he  used   any  model,  took   the  '*  Theage- 

nes  and  Chariclea "  of  Ileliodorus/'  He  calls 
*  135    what  he   produced   "A    *  Northern    Romance." 

and  makes  its  princi])al  storv  consist  of  the 
sufferinjxs  of  Persiles  and  Sio'isnnnida. —  the  lirst  the 
son  of  a  king  of  Iceland  ;  the  second  the  daughter  of 
a  king  of  Friesland,  —  laying  the  scene  of  one  half 
of  his  fiction  in  the  North  of  Europe,  and  that  of  tlic^ 
other  half  in  the  South.  lie  has  some  faint  ideas  of 
the  sea-kings  and  pirates  of  the  Northern  Ocean,  hut 
very  little  of  the  geography  of  the  countries  that  pro- 
duced them  ;  and  as  for  his  savage  men  and  frozen 
islands,  and  the  wild  and  strange  adventures  he  ima- 
gines to  have  passed  among  them,  nothing  can  he 
more  fantastic  and  incredi))le. 

In  Portugal,  Spain,  and  Italy,  through  which  his 
hero  and  heroine  —  disguised  as  thev  are  from  first  ta 
last .  under  the  names  of  Periandro  and  Auristela  — 
make  a  pilgrimage  to  Rome,  we  get  rid  of  most  of  the 
extravagances  which  deform  the  earlier  portion  of  the 
romance.  The  whole,  however,  consists  of  a  lahyrinth 
of  tales,  sliowing,  indeed,  an  imagination  quite  aston- 

^  Once  lu' intimates  that  it  is  a  trans-  soon   appeared   in  Spain.     The  iirst  is 

lation,  but  does  not  say  from  what  Ian-  the  "  llistoiia  >\v  Uiixilito  y  Aniinta  " 

{(uage.     (See  opening  of  Book  II.)     An  of    Franeisco    de    (i)uintana,    (Madrid, 

acute   and   elegant   critic  of  our   own  1627,   4to, )  divith^d  into  eight  books, 

time  says,  "  Des  naufrages,  des  deserts,  witli  a  good  deal  of  ])oetry  intermixed, 

des  descentes  par  mer,  et  des  ravi.sse-  Tlie  otlier  is  "  Eustorgio  y  Cloiilene, 

nients,    c'e.st    done    toujours    jjIus    ou  llistoria  Mositovica,"  by  Enri(|ue  Sua- 

inoins    I'ancien     ronian    d'Heliodore."  rez  ile  .Mendoza  y  Figueroa,  (n)29,)  in 

(Sainte  Beuve,   C'nti(|ue.s,   Paiis,  1839,  thirteen  book.s,  with  a  hint  of  a  con- 

8vo,  Tom.   IV.  p.   173.)     These  words  tiiniatioii  ;    Init  my  copy  was   printed 

describe  more  than  half  of  the  Pensiles  f"arago(;a,    166.5,    4to.     Both   are  writ- 

and   Sigisnuinda.      Two   imitations   of  ten  in   bad  taste,    and  have  no  value 

the  Persiles,  or,  at  any  rate,  two  imi-  as  fictions.     The  latter  seems  to  have 

tations   of  the    Greek   romance  which  been    plainly   suggested    by    the   Per- 

wa.s   the  chief  model   of  the,   Persiles,  siles. 


I'uAr.  XII. J  Till-:    DOX    QUIXOTE.  161 

ishiiig  in  an  old  man  like  Cervantes,  already  past  his 
grand  climacteric,  —  a  man,  too,  who  might  be  snp- 
posed  to  be  ])i-oken  down  by  sore  calamities  and  in- 
cnrable  disease  ;  l)iit  it  is  a  laljyrintli  from  which  we 
are  glad  to  be  extricated,  and  we  feel  relieved  when 
the  labors  and  trials  of  his  Persiles  and  Sigisnumda  are 
over,  and  when,  the  obstacles  to  their  love  being  re- 
moved, they  are  happily  united  at  Rome.  No  doubt, 
amidst  the  multitude  of  separate  stories  with  which 
this  wild  work  is  crowded,  several  are  graceful  in  them- 
selves, and  others  are  interesting  because  they  con- 
tain traces  of  Cervantes's  experience  of  life,*^ 
while,  *  through  the  whole,  his  style  is  more  *  136 
carefully  finished,  perhaps,  than  in  any  other 
of  his  works.  But,  after  all,  it  is  fjir  from  being  what 
he  and  his  friends  fimcied  it  was,  —  a  model  of  this 
peculiar  style  of  fiction,  and  the  best  of  his  efforts. 

This  honor,  if  we  may  trust  the  uniform  testimony 
of  two  centuries,  belongs,  beyond  question,  to  his  Don 
Quixote,  —  the  work  which,  above  all  others,  not 
merely  of  his  own  age,  but  of  all  modern  times,  bears 
most  deeply  the  impression  of  the  national  character  it 
represents,  and  has,  therefore,  in  return,  enjoyed  a  de- 
gree and  extent  of  national  favor  never  granted  to  any 
other."     When  Cervantes  began  to  write  it  is  wholly 

^  From  the  begimiiug  of  Book  III.,  tiling  else  he  wrote,  we  meet  iiitima- 

we  find  that  the  action  of  Persiles  and  tions  and  passages  from  his  own  life. 

Sigisnumda  is  laid  in  the  time  of  Philip  Persiles  and  Sigisnumda,  after  all,  was 

II.   or  Philip  III.,   when  there  was  a  the  most  immediately  snccessful  of  any 

Spanish   viceroy    in    Lisbon,    and   the  of  the  works  of  Cervantes.      Kight  edi"- 

travels  of  the  hero  and  heroine  in  the  tions  of  it  appeared  in  two  years,  and 

Sonth  of  Spain  and  Italy  seem  to  he,  it  was  translated  into  Italian,   French, 

in  fact,  Cervantes's  own  recollections  of  and  Knglish,  between  1618  and  1(526. 
the  join-ney  he  made  throngh  the  same  '^  My  own  experience  in  Sjiain  fully 

countries  in  his  youth  ;  while  CHiapters  corroborates  the  suggestion  of  Inglis,  in 

10  and   11    of    P>ook   III.    show   bitter  his  very  pleasant  book,  (Kamliles  in  the 

traces  of  his  Algerine  captivity.     His  Footstejisof  Don  Qui.xote,  London,  18:37, 

familiarity  with    Portugal,    as   .seen   in  8 vo,  p.  26, )  that  "no  Spaniard  is  entirely 

this    work,    should    also    be    noticed.  ignorant  of  Cervantes."     At  least,  none 

Frequently,  indeed,  as  in  almost  every-  I  ever  questioned  on  the  subject  —  and 

vol..    11.  11 


162  WHY  CEKYANTES  WKOTE  DON  QUIXOTE.    [I'iiuiuD  II. 

uncertain.  For  twenty  years  precedin«j:  the  a])])ear- 
an;e  of  the  First  Part  he  printed  ahnost  nothing;^ 
and  the  little  we  know  ol'  him  dnring  that  long  and 
dreary  period  of  his  life  shows  only  how  he  obtained  a 
hard  subsistence  for  himself  and  his  family  by  common 
business  agencies,  which,  we  have  reason  to  suppose, 
were  generally  of  trilling  importance,  and  which,  we 
are  sure,  were  sometimes  distressing  in  their  conse- 
C[uences.  The  tradition,  thercfoic.  of  his  ptM'secutions 
in  La  Mancha,  and  his  own  averment  that  the  Don 
Quixote  was  begun  in  a  prison,  are  all  the  hints  we 
have  received  concerning  the  circumstances  under 
which  it  was  first  imagined ;  and  that  such  circum- 
stances should  have  tended  to  such  a  result  is  a  strik- 
ing fact  in  the  history,  not  only  of  Cervantes, 
*  137  but  of  *  the  human  mind,  juid  shows  how  difter- 
ent  was  his  temperament  from  that  commonly 
found   in  men  of  genius. 

His  purpose  in  writing  the  Don  Quixote  has  some- 
times been  enlarged  by  the  ingenuity  of  a  refined 
criticism,  until  it  has  been  made  to  embrace  the 
whole  of  the  endless  contrast  between  the  poetical 
and  the  prosaic  m  our  natures,  —  between  lierolsm 
and  generosity  on  one  side,  as  if  the}^  were  mere  illu- 
sions, and  a  cold  selfishness  on  the  other,  as  if  it  were 
the  truth  and  reality  of  life.^  But  this  is  a  meta- 
physical   conclusion    drawn    from    views    of   the  work 

t]i(.'ir  iimiiljcr  was  great  in  the  lower  scciiis  to  have  Ikhmi  wliolly  occu])ieil  in 
comlitions  of  society  —  seemed  to  be  iiainful  struggles  to  secure  a  subsist- 
entirely  ignorant  what  sort  of  persons  ence. 

were  Don  Quixote  and  Sancho  Panza.  ^  'I'his  idea  is  found  jiavtly  developed 

**  He  felt  this  himself  as  a  dreary  in-  by  Houteiwek,    (('esehichte  der  Poesie 

terval  in   his  life,    for  he  says  in  his  und    IJercdsanikeit,    (iottingen,    1S03, 

Prologo  :   "Al  cabo  de  tantos  anos  co-  8vo,  Tom.  HI.  ])p.  ;}3.t  -  337,)  :inil  fully 

mo  lia,   (jue  dueiino  en  el  silencio  del  set  forth   and    defeuih'(l    by   Sismondi, 

olvido,"  etc.     In  fact,   from   l.')84  till  with   liis  accustomeil   elfxiuence.     Lit- 

1605  he  liad  printed  nothing  ex(;ept  a  teratun-   du    Midi   dc   1' Europe,    Paris, 

few   short    poems   of  little   value,    and  1S13,  Svo,  Tom.  HI.  i)}).  331) -343. 


LiiAP.   XII.]    WIIV  CEP.VANTES  WROTE  DON  QUIXOTE.  163 

iit  once  inipcM't'cct  ami  exaggeratcHl ;  contrary  to  the 
spirit  of  the  age,  which  was  not  given  to  a  satire  so 
philosophical  and  generalizing,  and  contrary  to  the 
character  of  Cervantes  himself,  as  we  follow  it  from 
the  time  when  he  first  became  a  soldier,  through  all 
his  trials  in  Algiers,  and  down  to  the  moment  when 
his  warm  and  trusting  heart  dictated  the  Dedication 
of  "  Persiles  and  Sigismunda  "  to  the  Count  de  Lemos. 
His  whole  spirit,  indeed,  seems  rather  to  have  been 
filled  with  a  cheerful  confidence  in  human  virtue,  and 
his  whole  bearing  in  life  seems  to  have  been  a  con- 
tradiction to  that  discouraging  and  saddening  scorn 
for  whatever  is  elevated  and  generous,  which  such 
an  interpretation  of  the  Don  Quixote  necessarily 
implies.^*^ 

Nor  does  he  himself  permit  us  to  give  to  his  ro- 
mance any  such  secret  meaning ;  for,  at  the  very 
beginning  of  the  work,  he  announces  it  to  be  his 
sole  purpose  to  break  down  the  vogue  and  authority 
of~  books  or~chivairy^  and,  at  the  end  of  the  whole, 
he  declares  anew,  in  his  own  person,  that  "he  had 
had  no  other  desire  than  to  render  abhorred  of  men  the 
false  and  absurd  stories  contained  in  books  of 
chivalry "  ;  ^^    exulting    *  in    his   success,  as   an    *  138 

1°  Many  other  interpretations  have  y  en  el  vulgo  tienen  los  libros  de  Cabal- 
been  given  to  the  Don  Quixote.  One  lerias  "  ;  and  he  end.s  the  Second  Part, 
of  the  most  ab.surd  i.s  that  of  Daniel  ten  year.s  afterwards,  with  these  I'e- 
De  Foe,  who  declares  it  to  be  "an  em-  markable  words  :  "iVo  Im  sido  ot.ro  vri 
blematic  history  of,  and  a  just  satire  deseo,  que  poner  en  aborrecimiento  de 
upon,  the  Duke  de  Medina  Sidonia,  a  los  hombres  las  fingidas  y  disparatadas 
person  very  remarkable  at  that  time  in  historias  de  los  libros  de  Caballerias, 
Spain."  (Wilson's  Life  of  De  Foe,  que  por  las  de  mi  verdadero  Don  Quix- 
London,  1830,  8vo,  Vol.  III.  p.  437,  ote  van  ya  tropezando,  y  han  de  caer 
rote.)  The  "Buscapie" — if  there  ever  del  todo  sin  duda  alguna.  Vale."  It 
was  such  a  publication  —  pretended  that  seems  really  hard  that  a  gi-ear  man's 
it  set  forth  "some  of  the  undertakings  word  of  honor  should  thus  be  called  in 
and  gallantries  of  the  Emperor  Charles  ([uestion  by  the  spirit  of  an  over-refined 
V."     See  Appendix  (D).  criticism,  two  centuries  after  his  death. 

11  In  the  Prologo  to  the  First  Part,  D.  Vicente  Salva   has  partly,    but  not 

he  says,  "No  ■mira  d  mas  que  a  deshacer  wholly,  avoided  this  difficulty  in  an  in- 

la  autoridad  y  cabida,  que  en  el  niundo  genions  and  pleasant  essay  on  the  ques- 


104 


WITY  CERVANTES  WROTE  DON  QUIXOTE.     [Peuiod  II, 


achicvi'iiicnt  of  no  siiiiill  inoineiit.  And  siicli.  in 
Diet,  it  was,  for  we  lia\e  al)Lindant  proof  that  tlie 
fanaticism  i'or  these  romances  was  so  great  in  Sj^ain, 
(luring  the  sixteenth  century,  as  to  have  become 
matter  of  ahirm  to  the  more  judicious.  Many  of 
the  distinguished  contemporary  authors  speak  of  its 
miscliiefs  and  anujng  the  rest  Fernandez  de  Oviedo,  the 
venerable  Luis  de  Granada,  Luis  de  Leon,  Luis  Vives, 
the  great  scholar,  and  Malon  de  Chaide,  who  wrote 
the  eloquent  '•  Conversion  of  Mary  Magdalen."  ^ 
Guevara,  the  learned  and  fortunate  courtier  of 
Charles  the  Fifth,  declares  that  "  men  did  read 
nothing  in  his  time  Init  such  shameful  books  as 
"  Amadis  de  Gaula,'  '  Tristan,'  '  Primaleon,'  and  the 
like  " ;  ^^  the  acute  author  of  '^  The  I)ialoo;ue  on 
Languages  "  says  that  "  the  ten  years  he  passed  at 
court  he  wasted  in  studying  '  Florisando,'  '  Lisuarte,' 
^  The  Knight  of  the  Cross,'  and  other  such  books, 
more    than    he    can    name  " ;  ^^    and    from    different 


tion,  "Wliether  the  Don  Quixote  has 
yet  been  jiidgedacconling  to  its  nieiits"  ; 
—  in  wliich  he  maintains  that  Cervan- 
tes did  not  intend  to  satirize  the  sub- 
stance and  essence  of  books  of  cliivah-y, 
but  only  to  puif(e  away  their  alisurdi- 
ties  and  iiiijiiobabilities  ;  and  tliat,  after 
all,  he  has  given  us  substantially  only 
another  romance  of  the  same  class, 
which  has  ruined  the  fortunes  of  all  its 
predecessors  bj'  being  itself  immensely 
in  advance  of  them  all.  Ochoa,  Ajmn- 
tes  para  una  liiblioteca,  Paris,  1S42, 
8vo,  Tom.  n.  ].p.  723-740. 

^  See  Oviedo,  Hist.  Ceneral  y  Natu- 
ral de  la.s  India.s,  Eil.  Kios,  Torn.  I. 
1851,  p.  xxix.  Simbolu  de  la  Fe,  Parte 
II.  cap.  17,  near  the  end.  J.  P.  For- 
ner,  Keflexiones,  etc.,  1786,  ])]•.  32-3.'). 
Conversion  de  la  Mag<laleiia,  1.592,  Pn')- 
logo  al  Letor.  All  live  are  strong  in 
thi'ir  censures  ;  a7id  to  thein  may  lie 
added  .luaii  Sanchez  Valdi-s  de  la  Plata, 
who  in  till-  Prologo  to  his  "Clironita 
del  Hombre"  (folio,  1.595),  —  a  book 
yiacked  full  nf  cnule  learning  on  the 
destiny  of  man,  his  powers  and  his  in- 


ventions, —  saj's,  that  "young  men  and 
girl.s,  and  even  tho.se  of  rijie  age  and 
estate,  do  wa.ste  their  time  in  reading 
books  which  with  truth  may  be  called 
sermon -books  of  Satan,  full  of  debili- 
tating vanities  and  l)lazonries  of  the 
knighthoods  of  the  Amadises  and  Es- 
plandians,  with  the  rest  of  their  crew, 
from  which  neither  jiroht  nor  doctrine 
can  be  gathered,  but  such  as  makes 
theii-  thoughts  the  abode  of  lies  and 
false  fancies,  which  is  a  thing  the  Devil 
doth  much  covet."  It  should  be  no- 
tic:ed,  however,  that  Nicolas  Antonio 
at  the  end  of  the  .seventeenth  century 
was  by  no  means  willing  to  give  up  books 
of  chivalrv.  See  Preface  to  IJibliotheca 
Nova,  §  27 . 

I'*  "  Vemos,  que  }'a  no  se  ocupan  los 
honibres  sino  en  leer  libios  que  cs  af- 
frenta  mmibrarlos,  como  son  Amailis  de 
(iaula,  Tristan  de  Leonis,  Primaleon," 
etc.  Argument  to  the  Aviso  de  Priva- 
df)s,  Obras  de  Ant.  de  Guevara,  Valla- 
dolid,  1545,  folio,  f.  clviii,  b. 

^*  The  jiassage  is  too  long  to  be  con- 
veniently cited,   but  it  is  very  severe. 


Cir\i'.   XII.]    WHY  CEIIVANTES  WROTE  DON  QUIXOTE. 


IG-J 


sources  we  *'kiiow,  what,  indeed,  we  m{>y  *  139 
gather  from  Cervantes  hhnself,  that  many 
who  read  these  fictions  took  them  for  true  histo- 
ries.^^ At  last  they  were  deemed  so  noxious,  that, 
in  1553,  they  were  prohibited  by  hiw  from  being 
printed  or  sold  in  the  American  colonies,  and  in 
15^55"  the  same  prohibition,  and  even  the  burning 
of  all  copies  of  them  extant  in  Spain  itself,  was 
earnestly  asked  for  by  the  Cortes.^*^  The  evil,  in 
fjxct,  had  become  formidable,  and  the  wise  began  to 
see  it. 

To  destroy  a  passion  that  had  struck  its  roots  so 
deeply  in  the  character  of  all  classes  of  men,^'  to  break 
up  the  only  reading  which  at  that  time  could  be  con- 
sidered widely  popular  and  fashionable,^*^  was  certainly- 


See  Mcayans  v  Siscar,  Origenes,  Tom. 
II.  pp.  157,  158. 

15  See  ante.  Vol.  I.  pp.  223-226. 
But,  besides  what  is  .said  there,  Fran- 
cisecf  de  Portugal,  who  died  in  1632, 
tells  us  in  his  "Arte  de  Galanteria," 
(Lisboa,  1670,  4to,  p.  96,)  that  Simon 
de  Silveira  (I  suppo.se  the  Portuguese 
poet  who  lived  about  1500,  Barbosa, 
Tom.  III.  p.  722)  once  swore  upon 
the  Evangelists,  tliat  he  believed  the 
whole  of  the  Amadis  to  be  true  his- 
tory. 

I''  Clemencin,  in  the  Preface  to  his 
edition  of  Don  Quixote,  Tom.  I.  pp. 
xi-xvi,  cites  many  other  proofs  of  the 
])assiou  for  books  of  chivalry  at  that 
jjcriod  in  Spain  ;  adding  a  reference  to 
the  "  Recopilacion  de  Leyes  de  las  In- 
dias,"  Lib.  I.  Tit.  24,  Ley  4,  for  the 
law  of  1553,  and  printing  at  length  the 
very  curious  petition  of  the  Cortes  of 
1555,  which  I  have  not  .seen  anywhere 
else,  except  in  the  official  publication 
of  the  "Capitulos  y  Leyes,"  (Vallado- 
lid,  1558,  fol.  Iv,  b, )  and  which  would 
probably  have  produced  the  law  it  de- 
manded, if  the  abdication  of  the  Em- 
peror, the  same  year,  had  not  prevented 
all  action  upon  the  matter. 

1''  Allusions  to  the  fanaticism  of  the 
lower  classes  on  the  subjci't  of  liooks 
of  chivalry  are  happily  introduced  into 


Don  Quixote,  Parte  I.  c.  32,  and  in 
other  places.  It  extended,  too,  to  thos(! 
better  bred  and  informed.  Francisco 
de  Portugal,  in  the  "Arte  de  Galante- 
ria," cited  in  a  preceding  note,  and 
written  before  1632,  tells  the  following 
anecdote  :  "  A  knight  came  home  on(; 
day  from  the  chase  and  found  his  wife 
and  daughters  and  their  women  crying. 
Surprised  and  grieved,  he  asked  them  if 
any  child  or  relation  were  dead.  '  No,' 
they  answered,  suttbcated  with  tears. 
'  Why,  then,  do  you  weep  so  ? '  he  re- 
joined, still  more  amazed.  'Sir,'  they 
replied,  'Amadis  is  dead.'  They  had 
read  .so  far."     p.  96. 

^^  Cervantes  himself,  as  his  Don 
Quixote  amply  proves,  must,  at  some 
period  of  his  life,  have  been  a  devoted 
reader  of  the  romances  of  chivalry. 
How  minute  and  exact  his  knowledge 
of  them  was  may  be  seen,  among  other 
passages,  from  one  at  the  end  of  the 
twentieth  chapter  of  Part  First,  where, 
S[>eaking  of  Ga.sabal,  the  esipiire  of  Ga- 
laor,  he  observes  that  his  name  is  men- 
tioned but  once  in  the  history  of  Amadis 
of  Gaul ;  — a  fact  which  the  indefatiga- 
ble Mr.  Bowie  took  the  pains  to  verify, 
when  reading  that  huge  romance.  See 
his  "Letter  to  Dr.  I'ercy,  on  a  New 
and  Classical  Edition  of  Don  Quixote," 
London,  1777,  4to,  p.  25. 


166  FIRST  PART  OF  THE  DON  QUIXOTE.        [Peiiiod  II. 

u  bold  uiulertakiuci^,  and  one  that  marks  anvthino; 
rather  than  a  scoi-iii"id  oi-  l)roken  spirit,  or  a  want  of 
faith  in  wliat  is  most  to  be  valued  in  our  common 
iTature.  The  great  wonder  is,  that  Cervantes 
*  140  succeeded.  But  that  he  did,  there  is  no  *  ques- 
tion. JS^o  book  of  chivalry  was  written  after 
the  appearance  of  Don  Quixote,, in  160-3;  and  from  the 
same  date,  even  those  already  enjoying  the  greatest 
favor  ceased,  with  one  or  two  unimportant  exceptions, 
to  be  reprinted ;  ^^  so  that,  from  that  time  to  the 
present,  they  have  been  constantly  disappearing,  until 
they  are  now  among  the  rarest  of  literary  curiosities ; 
—  a  solitary  instance  of  the  power  of  genius  to  destroy, 
by  a  single  well-timed  blow,  an  entire  department,  and 
that,  too,  a  flourishing  and  favored  one,  in  the  litera- 
ture of  a  great  and  proud  nation. 

The  general  plan  Cervantes  adopted  to  accomplish 
this  object,  without,  perhaps,  foreseeing  its  whole 
course,  and  still  less  all  its  results,  was  simple  as  well 
as  original.  In  160-3,-^'  he  pu])lislied  the  First  Part  of 
Don  Quixote,  in  which  a  country  gentleman  of  La 
Mancha  —  full  of  o-enuinc  Castilian  honor  and  enthu- 
siasm,  gentle  and  dignified  in  his  character,  trusted  by 

^^  In  tlie  comjueiitary  of  Faria  y  iiiaik  of  Ck-moiicin,  liowevcv,  there  are 
Sousa  on  the  Lusiad,  1637,  (Canto  VI.  exceptions.  For  instance,  the  "  Genea- 
fol.  138,)  he  says  already  that  in  conse-  logia  tie  la  Toledana  Discreta,  Priniera 
(|U(.'nce  of  the  pnlilication  of  the  Don  Parte,"  por  Eugenio  Maitinez,  a  tale  of 
Qnixote,  books  of  chivalry  "no  .son  chivalry  in  octave  stanzas,  not  ill  writ- 
tan  leidos";  and  in  a  dedication  to  the  ten,  was  reprinted  in  1608;  and  "HI 
Madrid  edition  of  that  work,  1668,  we  ('a])allero  del  Fcbo,"  and  "  Claridiano." 
are  told  that  its  ])revious  repeated  ini-  his  son,  are  extant  in  editions  of  1617. 
])ressions  "  han  (ksfermdo  los  libros  de  Tiie  period  of  the  passion  for  .such  books 
caballerias  tan  perjudiciales  a  las  cos-  in  Spain  can  be  leadily  seen  in  the  Bib- 
tunibres."  Navarrete,  jjp.  500,  502.  liograjihical  Catalogue,  and  notices  of' 
Cleniencin,  moreover,  and  finally  in  his  them  by  Salvd,  in  the  Kepertorio  Amer- 
Preface,  1833,  notes  "I).  Folicisiie  de  icano,  "(London,  1827,  Tom.  IV.  pp. 
Boecia,"  i)rinted  in  1602,  as  the  last  29-74,)  and  .still  better  in  the  Cata- 
book  of  cliivaliy  that  was  written  in  logue  ])retixc(l  by  Gayangos  to  Riva- 
Sfjain,  anil  adds,  that,  after  160."),  "vw  deneyra's  I'iblioteca,  Tom.  XL.  1857. 
.sc  piiblic6  de  nuevo  libro  alguno  de  It  was  eminently  tlie  sixteenth  cen- 
<;aballerifus,  y  (lejaron  (h  reiTuprimirse  tury. 
los  anteriores"  (p.  xxi).      To  this  re-  ^  See  Appendix  (E), 


(•hai>.   XJI.]       FIKST  TAKT  OF  THE  DON  QUIXOTE.  1G7 

his  friends,  and  loved  by  his  dependants  —  is  repr-e- 
sented  as  so  completely  crazed  by  long  reading  the 
most  famons  books  of  chivalry,  that  he  believes  them 
to  be  true,  and  feels  himself  called  on  to  become  the 
impossible  knight-errant  they  describe,  —  nay,  actually 
goes  forth  into  the  world  to  defend  the  op])ressed  and 
avenge  the  injured,  like  the  heroes  of  his  romances. 

To  complete  his  chivalrous  equipment  —  which  he 
had  begun  by  fitting  up  for  himself  a  suit  of  armor 
strange  to  his  century  —  he  took  an  esquire  out  of  his 
neighborhood;  a  middle-aged  peasant,  ignorant  and\^^ 
credulous  to  excess,  but  oF^great  good-nai^crre  ;  a  glut- 
ton  and  ajiar;  selfish  and  grosSj^yet  attached  to  his 
master;  shrewd  enough  occasionally  to  see  the 
folly  of  their  position,  but  always  *  amusing,  *  141 
and  sometimes  mischievous,  in  his  interpreta- 
tions of  it.  These  two  sally  forth  from  their  native 
village  in  search  of  adventures,  of  which  the  excited 
imagination  of  the  knig-ht,  turnins;  windmills  into 
giants,  solitary  inns  into  castles,  and  galley-slaves  into  K 
oppressed  gentlemen,  finds  abundance,  wherever  he 
goes ;  while  the  esquire  translates  them  all  into  the 
plain  prose  of  truth  with  an  admirable  simplicity,  quite 
unconscious  of  its  own  humor,  and  rendered  the  more 
striking  by  its  contrast  with  the  lofty  and  courteous 
dignity  and  magnificent  illusions  of  the  superior  per- 
sonage. There  could,  of  course,  be  but  one  consistent 
termination  to  adventures  like  these.  The  knight  and 
his  esquire  suffer  a  series  of  ridiculous  discomfitures, 
and  are  at  last  brought  home,  like  madmen,  to  their 
native  village,  where  Cervantes  leaves  them,  with  an. 
intimation  that  the  story  of  their  adventures  is  by  no 
means  ended. 

From  this    time    we    hear  little   of   Cervantes    and 


168  CEllVANTES    A\D    A's'KLLANEDA.  [Pkiimd  11. 

iiothiii<»;  of  his  hero,  till  eight  years  tifterwards^  in 
July,  IGlo,  when  he  wrote  the  Prefjice  to  his  Tales, 
where  lie  distinctly  annomices  a  Second  Tart  of  Don 
Quixote*  But  hefore  this  Second  Part  could  be  pu))- 
lished,  and,  indeed,  before  it  was  finished,  a  pei^son 
calling;  himself  Alonso  Fernandez  de  Avellaneda,  who 
seems,  from  some  provnicialisms  in  his  style,  to  have 
been  an  Aragonese,  and  who,  from  other  internal 
evidence,  was  a  Dominican  monk,  came  out,  in  the 
summer  of  1614,  with  what  he  impertinently  called 
^'  The  Second  Volume  of  the  Ingenious  Knight,  Don 

Quixote  de  la  Mancha."-^ 
*  142  *  Two  things  are  remarkable  in  relation  to 
■  this  book.  The  first  is,  that,  though  it  is 
hardly  possible  its  author's  name  should  not  have 
been  known  to  many,  and  especially  to  Cervantes 
himself,  still  it  is  only  by  strong  conjecture  that  it 
has  been  often  assigned  to  Luis  de  Aliaga,  the  king's 
confessor,  a  person  whom,  from  his  influence  at  court, 
it  might  not  have  been  deemed  expedient  openly 
to  attack ;  ])ut  sometimes  also  to  Juan  Blanco  de 
Paz.  a  Dominican  friar,  who  had  l)een  an  enemy  of 
Cervantes  in  Algiers.     The  second   is,  that  the  author 

■•^1  Cervantes    leproadies    Avellaneda  I  have.     There  are  editions  of  it,  Ma- 

with  being  au   Aragonese,  because   he  ilrid,    1732,    180.'),    and    1851  ;    and   a 

sometinies    omits    the    article   where   a  translation   by  Le  Sage,  1704,  in  which 

Oastilian  would  insert  it.      (Don  Quix-  — after  his  niann(a' of  translating — he 

ote,  I'arte  II.   e.  .lit.)     The  rest  of  tli(^  alters  and   enlarges  the   original   work 

<lis(;nssion  about  him  is  found  in  Pelli-  with  little  ceremony  or  good  faith. 
<;er,   Vida,    jij).   civi-clxv;  in   Navar-  It  may  be  worth  while  to  note  here, 

rete,   Vida,   [)\>.   14,4-l.'il  ;  in  Clemen-  that,    when    Pope,    in   Ids   "  Es.say  on 

<;in's   Don    Quixote,    I'arte    II.   c.    ,^>9,  Criticism,"  (267,  etc.,  beginning,  "Once 

notes;  and  in  Adolfo  de  (Jastro's  "  Con-  on  a  time    La  Mancha's  knight,    they 

•<Ie   Duijue   de   Olivares,"   ("adiz,    1846,  say,")  tells  a  story  about  Don  (^hiixote, 

8vo,    j>i>.    11,    etc.      This   Avellaneda,  lie  refcn-s,  not  to  the  work  of  Cervantes, 

•A^hoever  he  was,   called  his  book  "  Sr-  l>ut  to  that  of  Avellaneda,  and  of  Avel- 

{/viidfi  Toiuo  del  I ngenioso  Hidalgo  Don  laneda  in  the  rifn^ime^itrt  of  Le  Sage, 

■Quixote  de  la  Mancha,"  etc;.,   (Tarrago-  I>iv.    III.    chap.    29.      Persons  familiar 

iia,  1614,  12ino,)and  |)rinted  it  .so  that  with  Orvantes  are  oftAi  di.saj)point(!d 

it  matches  very  well  with  the  Valencian  that  they  do  not  recollect  it,  thinking 

•'•ditioii,  1<)(t.'j,  f»f  (he  Fir.^t   Part  of  tin'  tliat  the  reference  must  be  to  his  Don 

^genuine  Don  Quixote  ;  -  both  of  which  Quixote. 


CiiAi-.   XII.]  CERVANTES    AND    AVELLANEDA.  1G9 

seems  to  have  had  liints  of  the  plan  Cervantes  was 
pursuing  in  his  Second  Part,  then  unfinished,  and  to 
have  used  them  in  an  unworthy  manner,  especially 
in  making  Don  Alvaro  Tarfe  play  substantially  the 
same  part  that  is  played  by  the  Duke  and  Duchess 
towards  Don  Quixote,  and  in  carrying  the  knight 
through  an  adventure  at  an  inn  with  play-actors 
rehearsing  one  of  Lope  de  Vega's  di-amas,  almost 
exactly  like  the  adventure  with  the  puppet-show 
man  so  admirably  imagined  by  Cervantes.^'^ 

But  this  is  all  that  can  interest  us  about  the  Ijook, 
which,  if  not  without  merit  in  some  respects,  is  gen- 
erally low  and  dull,  and  would  now  be  forgotten,  if 
it  were  not  connected  with  the  fame  of  Don  Quixote. 
In  its  Prefoce,  Cervantes  is  treated  Avith  coarse  indig- 
nity, his  age,  his  sufferings,  and  even  his  honorable 
wounds  being  sneered  at;"  and  in  the  body  of  the 
book,  the  character  of  Don  Quixote,  who  appears  as 
a  vulgar  madman,  fancying  himself  to  be  Achilles, 
or  any  other  character  that  happened  to  occur  to  the 
author,^^  is  so  comj^letely  without  dignity  or 
consistency,  *  that  it  is  clear  the  writer  did  *  143 
not  possess  the   power  of  comprehending   the 

'^^  Avellanetla,  c.  26.    There  is  a  much  2*  Chapter    8; — just   as   he   makes 

ViettertraiLslation  than  Le Sage's,  by  Ger-  Don  Quixote  fancy  a  j)oor  ])easant  iu 

mond  de  Lavigne,  (Paris,  1853,   8vo, )  his  melon -garden  to  be  Orlando  Furio.so 

with  an  acute  pref  ice  and  notes,  partly  (c.   6);  —  a  little  village  to  be   Ronu; 

intended  to  rehabilitate  Avellaneda.  (c    7);  — and  its  decent   priest  alter- 

Fr.  Luis  de  Aliaga  was,  at  one  time,  nately    Lirgando   and   the   Archbishop 

Inrjui-sitor-General,  andaper.sonof  great  Tnrpin.      Perhaps    the    most    oV)vious 

politi(;al  considei'ation  ;  but  he  resigned  comparison,   and  the  fairest   that  cau 

his  i)lace  or  was  disgraced  in  the  reign  be  made,  between  the  two  Don  Quix- 

of  Philip  IV.,  and  died  in  exile  shortly  otes  is  in  the  story  of  the  goats,   told 

afterward.s,  December  3,  162(3.      He  fig-  by  Sancho  in  the  twentieth  chapter  of 

ures  in  Quevedo's  "Grandes  Anales  de  the  First  Part  in  Cervantes,   and  the 

Quince  Dias."     Ample  notices  of  him  story  of  the  geese,  by  Sancho  in  Avel- 

may  be  found  in  the  Kevista  de  ("iencias,  laneda's   twenty-first    chaptei',    because 

etc.,  Sevilla,  1856,  Tom.  III.  pj).  6,  74,  the   latter  profes.ses  to  improve   upon 

etc.  SeealsoLata.ssa,  Piib.Nov.,  III.376.  the  former.     The  failure  to  do  so,  how- 

23  "Tiene  mas  lengua  que  mauos,"  ever,  is  obvious  enough, 
says  Avellaneda,  coarsely. 


170  CERVANTES    AND    AVELLANEDA.  [PEUim.  II. 

genius  he  at  once  basely  libelled  and  meanly  at- 
tempted to  supplant.  The  best  parts  of  the  work 
-^■L^are  those  in  which  Sancho  is  introduced ;  the  worst 
•'  are  its  indecent  stories  and  the  adventures  of  Bar- 
bara, who  is  a  sort  of  brutal  caricature  of  the  grace- 
ful Dorothea,  and  whom  the  knio-lit  mistakes  for 
Queen  Zenobia.^^  But  it  is  almost  always  Aveari- 
.^ome,  and  comes  to  a  poor  conclusion  by  the  con- 
iinement  of  Don  Quixote  in    a    madhouse."*' 

Cervantes  evidently  did  not  receive  this  affront- 
ing production  mitil  he  was  ftir  advanced  in  the 
composition  of  his  Second  Part ;  but  in  the  fifty- 
ninth  chapter,  written  apparently  when  it  first 
reached  him,  he  breaks  out  upon  it.  and  from  that 
moment  never  ceases  to  persecute  it.  in  every  form 
of  ingenious  torture,  initil,  with  the  seventy-fourth, 
he  brino^s  his  own  work  to  its  conclusion.  Even 
Sancho,  with  his  accustomed  humor  and  simplicity, 
is  let  loose  upon  the  unhappy  Aragonese;  for,  hav-- 
ing  understood  from  a  chance  traveller,  who  first 
brings  the  book  to  their  knowledge,  that  his  wife  is 
called  in  it  Mary  Gutierrez,  instead  of  Teresa  Pan- 
za, — 

"  '  A  pretty  sort  of  a  history-writer.'  cried  Sancho. 
*  and  a  deal  must  he  know  of  our  afftiirs,  if  he  calls 
Teresa  Panza,  my  wife,  Mary  Gutierrez.  Take  the 
book  again.  Sir,  and  see  if  I  am  put  into  it,  and  if 
he  has  changed  my  name,  too.'  '  By  what  I  hear 
you  say,  my  friend,'  replied  the  stranger, '  3'ou  are,  no 
douljt,  Sancho   Panza,    the    esquire    of  Don    Quixote.' 

■^  The  wIioIp  story  of  Barbara,  be-  man,  to  add  two  cha])tprs  more  to  Don 

giuiiiiig   with  C'liaptiT   22,   and  going  Quixote,  as  if  they  liad  been  suppressed 

nearly  through   the  remainder  of  the  when  the  Second  Part  was  published, 

work,  is  miserably  coarse  antl  dull.  But  they  were  not  thought  worth  print- 

^  In  1824,   a  curious  attemj)!   was  ing  by  the  Spanish  Academy.     See  Don 

made,  probably  by  some  ingenious  Ger-  Quixote,  ed.  Clemencin,  Tom.  VI.  p.  296. 


Chap.  XIl]  CERVANTES    AND    AVELLANEDA.  171 

•  To  be  sure  1  tun,'  *  answered  Sanclio,  '  and  *  1-1-i 
proud  of  it  too.'  •  Then,  in  truth,'  said  the 
gentleman,  *=  this  new  author  does  not  treat  you  with 
the  propriety  shown  in  your  own  person ;  he  makes 
you  a  ghitton  and  a  fool ;  not  at  all  amusinii:,  and 
quite  another  thing  from  the  Sancho  described  in 
the  first  part  of  your  master's  history.'  'Well, 
Heaven  foroive  him  ! '  said  Sancho :  '  but  I  think  he 
mio'lit  have  left  me  in  my  corner,  without  troubling 
himself  about  me  ;  for,  Let  him  pla//  thai  Jcnows  the 
ii:ay ;  and  Saint  Peter  at  Rome  is  well  of  at  home' "  ^" 

Stimulated  by  the  appearance  of  this  rival  w^ork, 
as  well  as  offended  Avitli  its  personalities,  Cervantes 
ui-ged  forward  his  own,  and,  if  we  may  judge  by  its 
somewhat  hurried  air,  brought  it  to  a  conclusion 
sooner  than  he  had  intended.^^  At  any  rate,  as 
early  as  February,  1615,  it  w\as  finished,  and  w^as 
published  in  the  following  autumn  ;  after  which  we 
hear  nothing  more  of  Avellaneda,  though  he  had  in- 
timated his  purpose  to  exhibit  Don  Quixote  in  an- 
other series  of  adventures  at  Avila,  Valladolid,  and 
Salamanca.^'''  This,  indeed,  Cervantes  took  some  pains 
to  prevent;  for  —  besides  a  little  changing  his  plan, 
and  avoiding  the  jousts  at  Saragossa,  because  Avel- 
laneda had  carried  his  hero  there  ^*^  —  he  finally  re- 
stores Don  Quixote,  through  a  severe  illness,  to  his 
right  mind,  and  makes  him  renounce  all  the  follies 
of  knight-errantry,  and  die,  like  a  peaceful  Christian, 
in  his  own  bed;  —  thus  cutting  off  the  po.ssibility  of 
another  continuation  with  the  pretensions  of  the  first. 

This  latter  half  of  Don  Quixote  is  a  contradiction  of 

27  Parte  II.  c.  59.  of  his  being  at  Saragossa,  he  exclaim.s, 

**  See  Appemlix  (E).  "  Por  el  mismo  caso,  no  pondre  los  pies 

"^  At  the  end  of  Cap.  36.  en  Zaragoza,  y  asi  sacare  a  la  plaza  del 

^  When    Don  Quixote   understands  nnindo  la  mentira  de.se  historiador  mo- 

that  Avellaneda  has  given  an  account  derno."     Parte  II.  c.  59. 


172  SECOND  J>AKT  OF  THE  DOX  QUIXOTE.     [Period  II. 

the  proverb  Cervantes  cites  in  it,  —  that  second  parts 
were  never  yet  good  for  niuch.'^^  It  is,  in  fact,  better 
than  the  first.  It  shows  more  freedom  and  vigor; 
and    if    the    caricature    is   sometimes    pushed    to    the 

very  verge  of  what  is  permitted,  the  inven- 
*  145    tion,  the    style  of  *  thought,  and,  indeed,  the 

materials  throughout,  are  richer  and  the  finish 
is  more  exact.  The  character  of  Sanson  Carrasco, 
for  instance,^^  is  a  very  happ^',  though  somewhat 
})old,  addition  to  the  original  persons  of  the  drama ; 
and  the  adventures  at  the  castle  of  the  Duke  and 
Duchess,  where  Don  Quixote  is  fooled  to  the  top  of 
his  bent ;  the  managements  of  Sancho  as  governor 
of  his  .island;  the  visions  and  dreams  of  the  cave 
of  Montesinos ;  the  scenes  with  Roque  Guinart,  the 
freebooter,  and  with  Gines  de  Passamonte,  the  galley- 
slave  and  puppet-show  man ;  together  with  the  mock- 
heroic  hospitalities  of  Don  Antonio  Moreno  at  Barce- 
lona, and  the  final  defeat  of  the  knight  there,  are 
all  admirable.  In  truth,  everything  in  this  Second 
Part,  especially  its  general  outline  and  tone,  shows 
that  time  and  a  degree  of  success  he  had  not  before 
known  had  ripened  and  perfected  the  strong  manly 
sense  and  sure  insight  into  human  nature  which  are 
visible  in  nearlv  all  his  works,  and  which  here  be- 
come a  part,  as  it  were,  of  his  peculiar  genius,  whose 
foundations  had  been  laid,  dark  and  deep,  amidst  the 
trials  and  sufferings  of  his  various  life. 

^1  It  isoneofthe  mischievous  remarks  blemishes.     Garces,  in  his  "  Fuerza  y    • 

of  theBachelor  Samson  Carra.sco.     Parte  Vigor  de  la  Lengua  Castellana,"  Tom. 

II.  c.  4.  II.  Prologo,  as  \V(^11  as  throughout  that 

^  Don  Quixote,  Parte  II.  c.  4.     The  excellent  work,  has  given  it,  perhajis, 

style  of  both  parts  of  the  genuine  Don  more  unifonu  ]>raise  than  it  deserves ; 

Quixote   is,   as  might   be   anticipated,  ^  while  ( 'Icmencin,  in  his  notes,  is  verj 

free,  fresh,  and  careless; — genial,  like  rigorous  and  unpardoning  to  its  occa- 

the  author's  character,  full  of  idiomatic  sional  defects, 
beauties,    and    by   no    means   without 


Chap.  Xll.]     SKCOND  ]\VKT  OF  THE  DON  QUIXOTE.  1/3 

But  tlu'oiit^lioiit  both  parts,  Cervantes  shows  the 
impulses  and  instincts  of  an  original  power  with  most 
distinctness  in  his  development  of  the  characters  of 
Don  Quixote  and  Sancho,  in  whose  fortunate  contrast 
and  opposition  is  hidden  the  full  spirit  of  his  peculiar 
humor,  and  no  small  part  of  what  is  most  effective  in 
the  entire  fiction.  They  are  his  prominent  personages. 
He  delights,  therefore,  to  have  them  as  much  as  possi- 
ble in  the  front  of  his  scene.  They  grow  visibly  upon 
his  favor  as  he  advances,  and  the  fondness  of  his  liking 
for  them  makes  him  constantly  produce  them  in  lights 
and  relations  as  little  foreseen  by  himself  as  they  are 
by  his  readers.  The  knight,  who  seems  to  have 
been  *  originally  intended  for  aj^arody  of  the  *  14G 
Amadis,  becomes  gradually  a  detached,  sepa- 
rate, and  wholly  independent  personage,  into  whom  is 
infused  so  much  of  a  generous  and  elevated  nature, 
such  gentleness  and  delicacy,  such  a  pure  sense  of 
honor,  and  such  a  warm  love  for  whatever  is  noble  and 
good,  that  we  feel  almost  the  same  attachment  to  him 
that  the  barber  and  the  curate  did,  and  are  almost  as 
ready  as  his  familj^  was  to  mourn  over  his  death.^ 

The  case  of  Sancho  is  again  very  similar,  and  per- 
haps in  some  respects  stronger.  At  first,  he  is  intro- 
duced as  the  opjDosite  of  Don  Quixote,  and  used  merel}' 
to  bring  out  his  master's  peculiarities  in  a  more  strik- 
ing relief  It  is  not  until  we  have  gone  through 
nearly  half  of  the  First  Part  that  he  utters  one  of 
those  proverbs  which  form  afterwards  the  staple  of  his 
conversation  and  humor ;  ^^  and  it  is  not  till  the  open- 

^  Wordsworth     in   his    "Prelude"  And  thought  that,  in  the  Wind  and  awful  lair 

Book  v.,   says  of  Don  Quixote,   very  Of  such  a  u.adness,  rea.son  did  lie  couched, 
strikingly  :—  34  jj^  ^jof;,  Qucvedo,  in  his  "  Cuento 

Nor  have  I  pitied  him,  but  rather  fell  de  Cuentos,"  ridiiulcd  the  free  use  of 

Reverence  was  due  to  a  being  thus  employed ;  proverbs,  not,  however,  1  think,  direct- 


174      SECOND  PART  OF  THE  DOX  QUIXOTE.   [l'i:i:ini)  H. 

.  ing  of  the  Second  Part,  and,  indeed,  not  till  he  comes 
fortli.  in  all  his  mingled  shrewdness  and  crednlit}^,  as 
governor  of  Barataria,  that  his  character  is  quite  devel- 
oped and  completed  to  the  full  measure  of  its  grotesque, 
3'et  congruous,  proportions. 

Cervantes,  m  truth,  came  at  hist  to  love  these  crea- 
tions of  his  marvellous  power,  as  if  they  were  real, 
familiar  personages,  and  to  speak  of  them  and  treat 
them  with  an  earnestness  and  interest  that  tend  nmch 
to  the  illusion  of  his  readers.  "Roth  Don-Qjgj-x.Qtj'.  and 
Sanclio  are  thus  l)rou<ji:ht  before  us  like  such  living: 
-ji^  realities,  that,  at  this  moment,  the  figures  of  the  crazed, 
gaunt,  dignified  knight  and  of  his  round,  selfish,  and 
most  amusing  esquire  dwell  bodied  fortli  in  the  imagi- 
nations of  more,  among  all  conditions  of  men  through- 
out Christendom,  than  any  other  of  the  crea- 
*  147  tions  *of  human  talent.  The  greatest  of  the 
great  poets  —  Homer,  Dante,  Shakespeare,  Mil- 
ton —  have  no  doubt  risen  to  loftier  heights,  and 
placed  themselves  in  more  imposing  relations  with  the 
noblest  attributes  of  our  nature ;  but  Cervantes  — 
always  writing  under  the  unchecked  impulse  of  his  own 
genius,  and  instinctively  concentrating  in  his  fiction 
whatever  was  peculiar  to  the  character  of  his  nation 
—  has  shown  himself  of  kindred  to  all  times  and  all 
lands ;  to  the  humblest  degrees  of  cidtivation  as  well 
as  to  the  highest ;  and  has  thus,  bej'ond  all  other 
writers,  received  in  return  a  tribute  of  sympathy  and 
admiration  from  the  universal  spirit  of  humanity.^ 

ing  his  satire  against  tlie  Don  Quixote,  ^  I  niciiu  hy  this,  that  I  tliink  thou- 

but  ratlier  against  the  absurd  fashion  sands  of  persons,  the  workl  over,  have 

of  liis  time,  just  as  Cervantes  did.     A  notions  of  Don  Quixote  and  his  esquire, 

rude  answer  to  it, —  "  Vcnganza  de  hi  and   talk   about   "QuLxotism,"    "uiis- 

Lengua  Castellana,"  —  attributed  to  Fr.  cliicvous  Sancho,"  etc.,  who  yet  never 

Luis  dc  Aliaga,  and  first  printecl,  1  be-  liave   read    tlie   romance   of  Cervantes, 

lieve,  in  the  same  year,  may  be  found  in  nor  even  know  what  it  is.     A  different 

the  Seminario  Erudito,  Tom  VI.  p.  264.  popular  effect,  and  one  wortliy  the  days 


Cii.u'.  XII. 


J)Kl'i;('T.S    OF    THE    DOX    QUIXOTE. 


175 


It  is  not  easy  to  believe,  that,  Avhen  he  had  linished 
such  a  work,  he  was  insensible  to  what  he  had  done. 
Indeed,  there  are  passages  in  the  Don  Quixote  itself 
which  prove  a  consciousness  of  his  own  genius,  its  aspi- 
rations, and  its  power.^''  And  yet  there  are,  on  the 
other  hand,  carelessnesses,  blemishes,  and  contradic- 
tions scattered  through  it,  which  seem  to  show  him  to 
have  been  almost  indifferent  to  contemporary  success 
or  posthumous  fame.  His  plan,  which  he  seems  to 
have  modified  more  than  once  while  engaged 
*  in  the  composition  of  the  work,  is  loose  and  *  148 
disjointed ;  his  style,  though  full  of  the  richest 
idiomatic_beauties,  abounds  with  inaccuracies;  and  the 
facts  and  incidents  that  make  up  his  fiction  are  full  of 
anachronisms,  which  Los  Rios,  Pellicer,  and  Eximeno 
have  in  vain  endeavored  to  reconcile,  either  with  the 
main  current  of  the  story  itself,  or  with  one  another.'^' 


of  Grecian  enthusiasm,  is  noticed  in 
Kocca's  "  Memoirs  of  the  War  of  tlie 
French  in  Spain"  (London,  1816,  p. 
110).  He  says,  that  when  the  body  of 
French  troops  to  which  lie  was  attached 
entered  Toboso,  —  perfectly  answering, 
he  adds,  the  description  of  it  bj''  Cer- 
vantes, —  they  were  so  amused  with  the 
fancies  about  Dulcinea  and  Don  Quix- 
ote, awakened  by  the  place,  that  they 
were,  at  once,  on  easy  terms  with  its 
inhabitants  ;  Cervantes  becoming  a 
bond  of  good-fellowship,  which  not 
only  prevented  the  villagers  from  fly- 
ing, as  they  commonly  did  in  similar 
cases,  but  led  the  soldiers  to  treat  them 
and  their  honres  with  unwonted  respect. 
So, 

The  great  Emathian  conqueror  bid  spare 

The  liouse  of  Pindarus,  when  temjile  and  tov/er 

Went  to  the  ground :  and  tlie  repeated  air 

Of  sad  Electra's  poet  had  the  power 

To  save  the  Athenian  walls  from  ruin  bare. 

*  The  concluding  passages  of  the 
work,  for  instance,  are  in  this  tone  ; 
and  this  is  the  tone  of  his  criticisms  on 
Avellaneda.  I  do  not  count  in  the 
same  senSe  the  passage,  in  the  S(!Cond 
Part,  c.  16,  in  which  Don  Quixote  is 
made    to    boast    that    thirty    thousand 


copies  had  been  printed  of  the  First 
Part,  and  that  thirty  thou.sand  thou- 
sands would  follow  ;  for  this  is  intended 
as  the  mere  rhodomontade  of  the  hero's 
folly,  or  a  jest  at  the  pretensions  set 
up  for  Aleman's  "Guzman  de  Alfa- 
rache"  (see  ^ws^,  C'hap.  XXXIV.,  note 
4)  ;  but  I  confess  I  think  Cervantes  is 
somewhat  in  earnest  when  Ik?  makes 
Sancho  say  to  his  master,  "  I  will  lay 
a  wager,  that,  before  long,  there  will 
not  be  a  two-penny  eating-house,  a 
hedge  tavern,  or  a  poor  inn,  or  barber's 
shop,  where  the  history  of  what  we 
liav(!  done  will  not  be  painted  and  stuck 
up."     Parte  II.  c.  71. 

^■^  Los  Rios,  in  his  "Andlisis,"  pre- 
fixed to  the  edition  of  the  Academy, 
1780,  undertakes  to  defend  Cervantes 
on  the  authority  of  the  ancients,  as  if 
the  Don  Quixote  were  a  poem,  written 
in  imitation  of  the  Odyssey.  Pellicei-, 
in  the  fourth  section  of  his  "Discurso 
Preliminar "  to  his  edition  of  Don 
Quixote,  1797,  follows  much  the  same 
course  ;  besides  which,  iit  the  end  of 
the  fifth  volume,  he  gives  what  he 
gravely  calls  a  "  Geogra])hieo-liistorical 
Description  of  the  Travels  of  Don  (^>uix- 
ote,"   accompanied  with  a  map  ;  as  if 


176 


DEFECTS    OF    THE    DON    QUIXOTE.         [Pekiod  J  I. 


Thus,  in  the  First  Part,  Don  Quixote  is  geuerally 
represented  us  helonging  to  a  remote  age,  and  his 
liistory  is  sujoposed  to  liave  been  written  by  an  ancient 

Arabian  author  r"^  while,  in  the  examination 
*  149     of  his    hbrary,    he    is    *  plainly    contemporary 

with  Cervantes  himself,  and,  after  his  defeats,  is 


some  of  Cervantes's  geo^ra])hy  were  not 
iinijossible,  and  as  if  half  his  localities 
were  to  be  found  anywhere  but  in  the 
imaginations  of  liis  readers.  On  the 
ground  of  such  irregularities  in  his 
geograjihy,  and  on  other  gi'ounds  e([ual- 
ly  absurd,  Xieholas  Perez,  a  Valencian, 
attacked  Cervantes  in  the  "  Auti-(^)uix- 
ote,"  the  tirst  volume  of  which  was 
published  in  1805,  but  was  followed  by 
none  of  the  five  that  were  intended  to 
complete  it ;  and  received  an  answer, 
(piite  satisfactory,  but  more  severe  than 
was  needful,  in  a  pamphlet,  publishetl 
at  Madrid  in  180C,  12mo,  by  J.  A. 
Pellicer,  without  his  name,  entitled 
"  Exanien  Critico  del  Tomo  Primero 
de  el  Anti-Quixote."  And  finally,  Don 
Antonio  Eximeno,  in  his  "Apologia  de 
Miguel  de  Cervantes,"  (Madrid,  1806, 
12mo, )  excuses  or  defends  everything 
in  th(>  Don  Quixote,  giving  us  a  new 
chronologic'al  plan,  (p.  60,)  with  exact 
astronomic'al  reckonings,  (j).  129,)  and 
maintaining,  among  other  wise  posi- 
tions, that  Cervantes  i atcntionall ij  rep- 
resented Don  Quixote  to  have  lived 
both  in  an  earlier  age  and  in  his  own 
time,  in  order  that  curious  readers  might 
lie  confounded,  and,  after  all,  m\\\  some 
imaginary  period  be;  a.ssigned  to  his 
hei-o's  a('hievements  (p]).  19,  (!tc.).  All 
this,  I  think,  is  eminently  absurd  ;  but 
it  is  the  consequence  of  the  blind  admi- 
ration with  which  Cei-vaiit(^s  was  idol- 
ized in  Spain  during  the  latter  ])art  of 
the  last  centuiy  and  the  beginning  of 
the  present  ;  —  itself  partly  a  result  of 
the  coldness  with  which  he  had  been 
overlooked  by  the  learnecl  of  his  coun- 
trymen for  nearly  a  century  previous  to 
that  period.  Don  Quixote,  Madrid, 
1819,    8vo,    Pr61ogo   de    la   Academia, 

P-J3]- 

^  Conde,  the  author  of  the  "  Domi- 
nacion  de  los  Arabes  en  Kspaha,"  uniler- 
takes,  in  a  pamphlet  published  in  con- 
junction with  J.  A.  I^'llicer,  to  .show 
^hat  the  name  of  this  pretended  Arabic 


author,  Cid  Uametc  Bcncngcli,  is  a  com- 
bination of  Arabic  words,  meaning  //-/- 
hlc,  satirical,  and  unluippij.  (Carta  en 
Ca.stellano,  etc.,  IMadrid, '  1 800,  12mo, 
pp.  16-27.)  It  may  be  so  ;  but  it  is 
not  in  character  for  Cervantes  to  .seek 
such  refinements,  or  to  make  such  a 
display  of  his  little  learning,  which  does 
not  seem  to  have  extended  beyond  a 
knowledge  of  the  Anilgar  Arabic  sjioken 
in  Barbary,  the  Latin,  the  Italian,  and 
the  Portuguese.  Like  Shakes]>eare, 
however,  Cervantes  had  read  and  re- 
membered nearly  all  that  had  been 
])rinted  in  his  own  language,  and  con- 
stantly makes  the  most  felicitous  allu- 
.sions  to  the  large  stoi-es  of  his  knowl- 
edge of  this  soit. 

Clemencin,  howevei',  sometimes  seems 
willing  to  extenil  the  learned  reading 
of  Cervantes  further  than  is  neces.saiT. 
Thus  (Don  Quixote,  Tom.  III.  p.  l:32^ 
he  Ihinks  the  Discourse  of  the  Knight 
on  Arms  and  Letters  (Parte  II.  c.  37 
and  38)  may  be  traced  to  an  obscure 
Latin  treatise  on  the  same  subject  print- 
ed in  1.549.  It  does  not  .seem  to  be 
needful  to  refer  to  anj'  particular  source 
for  a  mattei'  .so  obviou.s,  especially  to  a 
Sjianiard  of  the  time  of  Cervantes  ;  but 
if  it  be  worth  while  to  do  so,  a  nearer 
one,  and  one  much  more  probable,  may 
be  found  in  the  Dedication  of  the  "  Flo- 
res  de  Seneca  traducidas  ])or  Juan  Cor- 
dero,"  (Anver.s,  1555,  12mo,)  a  person 
much  distinguished  and  honored  in  his 
time,  as  we  see  from  Xinicno  and  Fus- 
ter. 

There  was  an  answer  to  Conde's 
"Carta  en  CastcIIano,"  entitled  "  Res- 
puesta  a  la  Carta  en  Castellano,  etc., 
per  Don  Juan  Fran.  Perez  de  Cacegas" 
(Madrid,  1800,  18mo,  pp.  60).  It  was 
hardly  needed,  I  think,  and  its  temper 
is  not  better  than  that  of  such  contro- 
versial tracts  generally  among  the  Span- 
iards. But  some  of  its  hits  at  the 
notes  of  Pellicer  to  Don  Quixote  are 
well  deserved. 


liiAi'.   Xll.l        DKFKC'TS    OF    THE    DON    QUIXOTE.  1T7 

broil <>'lit  liomo  coiifossodly  in  the  year  1G04.  To  add 
further  to  this  coiiriision,  when  we  reach  the  Second 
Part,  which  opens  only  a  month  after  the  conchision  of 
the  First,  and  continues  only  a  few  weeks,  we  have,  at 
the  .side  of  the  same  chiims  of  an  ancient  Arabian 
nnthor,  a  conversjition  about  the  expulsion  of  the 
Moors,'^-*  which  happened  after  1609,  and  much  criticism 
on  Avellaneda,  wdiose  work  was  published  in  1614.'^*^ 

But  this  is  not  all.  As  if  still  further  to  accumulate 
contradictions  and  incongruities,  the  very  details  of  the 
story  he  has  invented  are  often  in  whimsical  conflict 
Avith  each  other,  as  well  as  with  the  historical  facts 
to  which  they  allude.  Thus,  on  one  occasion,  the 
^scenes  which  he  had  represented  as  having  occurred  in 
the  course  of  a  single  evening  and  the  following  morn- 
ing are  said  to  have  occupied  two  days ; "  on  another, 
he  sets  a  company  down  to  a  late  supper,  and  after 
conversations  and  stories  that  must  have  carried  them 
nearly  through  the  night,  he  says,  "  It  began  to  draw 
towards  evening."*"^  In  different  places  he  calls  the 
same  individual  by  different  names,  and  —  what  is 
rather  amusing  —  once  reproaches  Avellaneda  with  a 
mistake  which  was,  after  all,  his  own.*^  And  finally, 
having  discovered  the  mconseqnence  of -saying  seven 
times  that  Sancho  was  on  his  ass  after  Gines  de  Passa- 
monte  had  stolen  it,  he  took  painsTnT'tTie  only 
edition  of  the  First  Part  that  he  ever  *  revised,  *  150 
to    correct   two    of   his   blunders,  —  heedlessly 

39  Don  Quixote,  Parte  TI.  c.  .54.  ''^  Cervantes  calls  Sancho's  Avife  by 

***  The  criticism   on  Avellaneda  be-  three  or  four  different  names  (Parte  1. 

gins,  as  we  have  said,  Parte  II.  c.  59.  c.  7  and  52,  and  Parte  II.  c.  5  and  59) ; 

*i  Parte  I.  c.  46.  and  Avellaneda  liaAang,  in  some  degree, 

*^  "  Llegaba  ya  la  noche,"  he  says  in  imitated  him,  Cervantes  makes  himself 

c.  42  of  Parte  I.,  when  all  that  had  oc-  very  merry  at  the  confusion  ;  not  no- 

curred  from  the  middle  of  c.  37  had  ticing  that  the  mistake  was  really  his 

happened  after  they  were  set  down  to  own. 

supper.  , 

VOL.     II.  12 


178  MERITS    OF    THE    DON    QUIXOTE.  [Pei:i.)I.  11. 

overlooking"  llio  rest;  and  wlien  he  pul)lishe(l  the 
Second  Part,  Uuighed  heartily  at  the  whole,  —  the 
errors,  the  corrections,  and  all,  —  as  tlnngs  of  little 
consequence  to  himself  or  anyljody  else.'^ 

The  romance,  however,  which  he  threw  so  carelessly 
from  him,  and  wdiich,  I  am  persuaded,  he  regarded 
rather  as  a  bold  effort  to  break  up  the  a])surd  taste  of 
his  time  for  the  fancies  of  chivalry  than  as  anything  of 
more  serious  import,  has  been  established  l)y  an  unin- 
terrupted, and,  it  may  be  said,  an  unquestioned,  suc- 
cess ever  since,  both  as  the  oldest  classical  specimen  of 
romantic  fiction,  and  as  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
monuments  of  modern  genius.  But  though  this  may 
be  enough  to  fill  the  measure  of  human  fame  and 
glory,  it  is  not  all  to  which  Cervantes  is  entitled ;  for, 
if  we  would  do  him  the  justice  that  would  have  been 
most  welcome  to  his  own  spirit,  and  even  if  we  would 
onrselves  fully  comprehend  and  enjoy  the  whole  of  his 
Don  Quixote,  w^e  should,  as  w^e  read  it,  bear  in  mind, 
that  this  delightful  romance  was  not  the  result  of  a 
youthful  exuberance  of  feeling  and  a  hapj)y  external 
condition,  nor  composed  in  his  best  years,  wdien  the 
spirits  of  its  author  Avere  liglit  and  his  hopes  high;  but 
that  —  with  all  its  imquenchable  and  irresistible  hu- 
mor, with  its  bright  views  of  the  world,  and  its  cheer- 
ful trust  in  goodness  and  virtue  —  it  w^as  written  in  his 
old  age,  at  the  conclu§im]  of  .a  life  nearly  every  step  of 
which  had  been  marked  wntli  disappointed'^irxpecta- 
tions,    disheartening    struggles,    and    sore    ctdamities ; 

■•*  Tlie   facts   roferrcd   to   are   tliesc.  tho  edition  of  1(308,  Cervantes  corrected 

Oines  de  Passamonte,  in  the  23d  chap-  two  of  tliesc  careh^ss  mistakes  on  leaves 

ter  of   Part   First,   (ed.   1605,  f.   108,)  109  and  112;  bnt  left  the  five  others 

steals  Saiudio's  ass.      l^ut  liardly  three  jnst  as  they  stood  before  ;  and  in  Chaj)- 

leavcs  further  on,  in  the  same  edition,  ters  3  and  27  of  the  Second  Part,  (ed. 

we  find  Sancho  riding  again,  as  usual,  161.'j,)  jests  about    the   whole   matter, 

on  the  poor  beast,  which   i'eap]>eiirs  yet  but    shows    no    disjjosition    to  attempt 

B^-i-x  other  times  out  of  all  reason.      In  further  corrections. 


CllAl'.    Xll. 


MKIHTS    OF    TIIK    DOX    QUIXOTE. 


179 


tlitit  he  began  it  in  a  ])ris()n,  and  tliat  it  was  finished 
when  he  felt  the  hand  ol"  death  [)ressiiig  lieavy  and 
cold  npon  his  heart.  If  tliis  ])e  remembered  as  we 
read,  we  may  feel,  as  we  onglit  to  feel,  Avhat  admira- 
tion and  reverence  are  dne,  not  only  to  the 
living  power  of  Don  *  Quixote,  but  to  the  char-  *  lol 
acter  and  genius  of  Cervantes ;  —  if  it  be  for- 
gotten or  underrated,  we  shall  fail  in  regard  to  both."*" 


*^  Having  exjn'cssed  so  strong  an 
opinion  of  (Jervantes's  merits,  1  cannot 
refuse  myself  the  pleasure  of  citing  the 
words  of  the  modest  and  wise  Sir  Wil- 
liam Temple,  who,  when  speaking  of 
works  of  satire,  and  rebuking  Rabelais 
for  his  indecency  and  profaneness,  says  : 
"The  matchless  wiiter  of  Don  Quixote 
is  much  more  to  be  admired  for  having 
made  up  so  excellent  a  composition  of 
satire  or  ridicule  without  those  ingredi- 
ents ;  and  seems  to  be   the   best  and 


highest  strain  that  ever  has  been  or  will 
be  reach(!(l  by  that  vein."  Works,  Lon- 
don, 1814,  8vo,  Vol.  111.  p.  43G.  To 
this  may  ijot  inappropriately  be  added 
the  opinion  of  Dr.  Johnson,  who  "con- 
fessed that  the  work  of  Cervantes  was 
the  greatest  in  the  world  after  Homer's 
Hiad,  .speaking  of  it,  I  mean,"  says  Mrs. 
Piozzi,  "as  a  book  of  entertainment." 
Boswell's  Johnson,  Ci'oker's  edition, 
1831,  Vol.  IV.  pp.  377,  378.  See  Ap- 
peudix  (E). 


*l.i2  *  CHAPTER    XTTT. 

l.OPi:     DK     VKCA.  —  ins     KAI!I.V     I, IKK. A    SOLDIKK. HE     WRITES     THE     ARCA- 
DIA.  MAKUIE?'. HAS     .V     DIEI.. KI.IES     TO     VALE\<IA. DEATH     OF     HIS 

AVIKE.  —  HE     SEItVES     IN     THE    AHMADA. UETIRXS    TO    MADRID. :MARRIES 

At.AIN.  —  DEAIII    OF    HIS    SONS. HE    HECOMES    RELKHOI'S. HIS    POSITION 

AS     A      MAN     OK     LETTERS. HIS     SAN      ISIDRO,     HERMOSirRA     DE     ANGELICA, 

DI!A(;ONTEA,    I'EREGRINO    EN    SL'    I'ATRIA,    AND    .lERLSALEN    CONQUISTADA. 
• 

It  is  impossible  to  speak  of  Cervantes  as  the 
great  genius  of  the  Spanish  nation  without  recalling 
Lope  -de  Vega,  the  rival  who  far  surpassed  him  in 
contemporary  popularity,  and  rose,  during  the  life- 
time of  both,  to  a  degree  of  fome  which  no  Spaniard 
had  yet  attained,  and  which  has  been  since  reached 
by  few  of  n.i\y  country.  To  the  examination,  there- 
fore, of  this  great  man's  claims,  —  which  extend  to 
almost  every  department  of  the  national  literature, 
—  we  naturally  turn,  after  examining  those  of  the 
author  of  Don  Quixote. 

Lope  Felix  de  Vega  Carpio  was  born  on  the  25th 
of  November,  1562,  at  Madrid,  whither  his  father  had 
recently  removed,  almost  by  accident,  from  the  old 
family  estate  of  Vega,  in  the  picturesque  valley  of 
Caniedo.^      Fioiu    his    earliest    youth    he    discovered 

^  There  is  a  life  of  Lope  de  Vega,  generous  spiiit  of  its  author,  who  spent 

which  was  first  published  in  a  single  some  tinu!  in  Spain,  when  he  was  al)out 

volume,  1iy  the  third  Lord  Holland,   in  thirty  years  old,   and  never  afterwards 

1806,  and  again,  with  tiie  addition  of  a  ceased  to  take  an  intere.st  in  its  alfairs 

life  of  Guillen  de  Castro,  in  two  vol-  ami  literature.     He  was  much  connect- 

umes,    8vo,     London,    1817.       It   is   a  ed  with  Jovellanos,  Blanco  White,  and 

plea.sant    book,    and    contains   a   good  other    distinguished    Sjianiards ;  not  a 

notice  of  both  its  subjects,  and  agree-  few  of  wlioni,   in  the  days  of  disaster 

able  criticisms  on  their  works  ;  l)ut  it  is  that   fell   on   their  country  iluring  the 

quite  a.s  interesting  for  thi'  glimiises  it  French    invasion,    and   the   subsequent 

gives  of  the  tine  accomplishments  and  mi.sgovernment  of  Ferdinand  VII.,  en- 


ClIAl'.    XI II.  I 


LOPE    DE    VEGA. 


181 


extraordinary  *  powers.  We  are  assured  by  *  loo 
his  friend  Montjdvan,  that  at  five  years  of  age 
he  could  not  only  read  Latin  as  well  as  Spanish, 
])ut  that  he  had  such  a  passion  for  poetry,  as  to 
pay  his  more  advanced  schoolfellows  with  a  share 
of  his  breakfast  for  writino;  down  the  verses  he  die- 
tated  to  them,  before  he  had  learned  to  do  it  for 
hmiself^  His  father,  who,  as  he  intimates,  was  a 
poet,^  and  who  was  much  devoted  to  works  of  charity 
in  the  latter  years  of  his  life,  died  when  he  was  very 
young,  and  left,  besides  Lope,  a  son  who   perished  in 


joyed  the  princely  hospitality  of  Hol- 
laiul  Hou.se,  where  the  beni<T;iuiiit  and 
frank  kindliness  of  its  noble  master 
shed  a  charm  and  a  grace  over  what 
was  most  intellectual  and  elevated  in 
European  society  that  could  be  given 
by  nothing  else. 

Lope's  own  account  of  his  origin  and 
birth,  in  a  poetical  epistle  to  a  Peruvian 
lady,  who  addressed  him  in  verse  under 
the  name  of  "Amarylis,"  is  very  odd. 
The  corre.spondence  is  found  in  the  first 
volume  of  his  Obras  Sueltas,  (Madrid, 
1776-1779,  21  torn.  4to,)  Epistolas 
XV.  and  XVI.  ;  and  was  first  printed 
"by  Lope,  if  I  mistake  not,  in  1624.  It 
is  now  referred  to  for  the  following  im- 
portant lines  :  — 

Tiene  su  silla  en  la  bordada  alfombra 
De  Castilla  el  valor  de  la  montana, 
Que  el  valle  de  Oarriedo  Espana  nombra. 

All  1  otro  tiempo  se  cifraba  Espana  ; 
Alii  tuve  principio  ;  mas  que  importa 
Nacer  laurel  y  ser  humilde  cana  ? 

Falta  dinero  alii,  la  tierra  es  corta  ; 
Vino  mi  palrj  del  solar  de  Vega: 
Assi  a  los  pohres  la  nobleza  exhorta  ; 

Siguiole  ha.sta  Madrid,  de  zelos  ciega, 
Su  amorosa  muger,  porque  61  queria 
Una  Espaitola  Helena,  entonces  Griega. 

Ilicieron  amistades,  y  aquel  dia 

Fue  piedra  en  mi  primero  fundamento 
La  paz  de  .su  zelosa  fantasia. 

En  fin  por  zelos  soy  ;  que  naciniiento  I 
Imaginalde  vos  que  haver  nacido 
De  tan  inquieta  causa  fu6  portento. 

And  then  he  goes  on  with  a  pleasant 
account  of  his  making  verses  as  soon  as 
he  could  speak  ;  of  his  early  passion 
for  Raymond  Lulli,  the  metaphy.si(;al 
doctor  then  so  much  in  fashion  ;  of  his 
subsequent  .studies,  his  family,  etc. 
Lope  loved  to  refer  to  his  origin  in  the 
mountains.      He   s])eaks   of  it   in   his 


"Laurel  de  Apolo,"  (Silva  Vlll.,)  and 
in  two  or  three  of  his  jilays  he  makes 
his  heroes  boast  that  they  came  from 
that  part  of  Spain  to  which  he  traced 
his  own  birth.  Thus,  in  "  La  Vengan- 
za  Venturosa,"  (Comedias,  4to,  Madrid, 
Tom.  X.,  1620,  f.  33,  b,)  Feliciano,  a 
high-spirited  old  knight,  says,  — 

El  noble  solar  que  lieredo, 

No  lo  dare  a  rico  infame, 

Porque  nadie  me  lo  Uame 

En  el  valle  de  Carriedo. 

And  again,  in  the  opening  of  the  "Pre- 
mio  del  Bien  Hablar,"  (4to,  Madrid, 
Tom.  XXL,  1635,  f.  159,)  where  he 
seems  to  describe  his  own  case  and 
character  :  — 

Naci  en  Madrid,  aunque  son 
En  Galicia  los  solares 
De  mi  naciniiento  noble, 
De  mis  abuelos  y  padres. 
Para  noble  naciniiento 
Ay  en  Espana  tres  partes, 
Galicia,  Vizcaya,  Asturias, 
O  ya  montaiias  le  llaman. 

The  valley  of  Carriedo  is  said  to  be  very 
beautiful,  and  Minano,  in  his  "  Diccio- 
nario  Geografico,"  (Madrid,  8vo,  Tom. 
II.,  1826,  p.  40,)  describes  La  Vega  as 
occupying  a  fine  position  on  the  banks 
of  the  Sandoiiana. 

^  "  Before  he  knew  how  to  write,  he 
loved  verses  so  much,"  says  Montalvan, 
his  friend  and  eulogist,  "  that  he  shared 
his  breakfast  with  the  older  boys,  in 
.  order  to  get  them  to  take  down  for  him 
what  he  dictated."  Fama  Postuma, 
Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  XX.  p.  28. 

**  In  the  "Laurel  de  Apolo,"  he  says 
he  found  rough  copies  of  verses  among 
his  father's  papers,  that  seemed  to  him 
better  than  his  own. 


182  LOPE    DE    VEGA    AT    COLLEGE.  [Pkiuod  II. 

the  Annada  in  1-588,  and  a  daughter  who  died  in 
IGOl.  In  the  period  immediately  following  the  fa- 
ther's death,  the  family  seems  to  have  l)een  seattered 

by    poverty;    and     dining    this    intei'val    Lope 
*  154     probaldy   lived    Avith    his    nncle.    *  the    hujuisi- 

tor,  Don  Miguel  de   Cai})io,  of  whom  he  long 
afterwards  speaks  with  great  respeet* 

l)Ut  though  the  fortunes  of  his  house  were  l)roken, 
his  education  was  not  neglected.  He  was  sent  to 
the  Imperial  College  at  Madrid,  and  in  two  years 
made  extraordinary  progress  in  ethics  and  in  elegant 
literature,  avoiding,  as  he  tells  ns,  the  mathematics, 
which  he  found  nnsuited  to  his  humor,  if  not  to  his 
genius\  Accomplishments,  too,  were  added, —  fen- 
cing, dancino;,  and  music  ;  and  he  Avas  going  on  in  a 
way  to  gratify  the  wishes  of  his  friends,  when,  at 
the  age  of  fourteen,  a  wild,  giddy  desire  to  see  the 
world  took  possession  of  him  ;  and,  accompanied  by 
a  schoolfellow^,  he  ran  away  from  college.  At  first, 
they  went  on  foot  for  two  or  three  days.  Then  tliej^ 
bought  a  sorry  horse,  and  travelled  as  far  as  Astorga, 
in  the  northwestern  part  of  Sf)ain,  not  far  from  the 
old  fief  of  the  Vega  family ;  but  there,  growdng  tired 
of  their  journey,  and  missing  more  seriously  than 
they  had  anticipated  the  comforts  to  which  they  had 
been  accustomed,  they  determined  to  return  home. 
At  Segovia,  they  attempted,  in  a  silversmith's  shop, 
to  exchange  some  doubloons  and  a  gold  chain  for 
small  coin,  but  were  suspected  to  be  thieves,  and 
arrested.  The  magistrate,  how^ever,  before  whom 
they  were  brought,  bein^  satisfied  that  they  w^ere 
guilty  of  nothing  but  folly,   released  them;    though, 

*  See  Dedication  of  the  "  Hennosa  Esti-r,"  in  Coiiiedia.s,   Madrid,   4to,  Tom. 
XV.,  1i;21. 


CllAP.     XUl.] 


J.Ol'K    I)E    VK(iA    IX    LOVE. 


183 


wisliing  to  do  ;i  kindness  to  their  friends,  as  well 
as  to  themselves,  he  sent  an  oflieer  of  justiee  to  de- 
liver them  safely   in  Madrid/' 

At  the  a<re  of  iifteen,  as  he  tells  ns  in  one  of  his 
poetical  epistles,  he  was  serving  as  a  soldier  against 
the  Portugnese  in  Terceira;''  bnt  oidy  u  little  Inter 
than  this  we  know  that  he  iilled  some  place 
*  about  the  person  of  Geronimo.  Manrique,  *  155 
Bishop  of  Avila,  to  whose  kindness  he  acknowl- 
edged himself  to  be  much  indebted,  and  in  whose 
honor  he  wrote  several  eclogues,"  and  inserted  a  long 
passage  in  his  ''  Jerusalem."  Under  the  pntronage  of 
Manrique,  he  was,  probably,  sent  to  the  University 
of  Alcala,  where  he  certainly  studied  some  time,  and 
not  only  took  the  degree  of  Bachelor,  but  was  near 
submittini"'  himself  to  the  irrevocable  tonsure  of  the 
priesthood.^ 

But,  as  we   learn  from  some   of  his  own  accounts, 
he    now  fell  in  love.       Indeed,  if  we   are    to    believe 


^  hi  tlie  "  Fama  Postuma." 
*"  This  curious  passage  is  in  the  Epis- 
th',  or  Metro  Lyrico,  to  D.  Luis  de  Ha- 
ro,  Ohras  Sueltas,  Tom.  L\.  p.  379  :  — 

Xi  mi  fortuna  tniula 
Ver  en  tri's  lustres  tie  mi  L'.lad  iirimera 
('on  la  espada  desnuUa 
Al  liravo  I'ortugues  en  la  Tercera, 
Ni  despues  en  las  naves  Espanolas 
Del  mar  Ingles  los  puertos  y  las  olas. 

I  do  uot  (juite  luake  out  how  this  can 
have  hapitened  in  1.577  ;  but  the  assei- 
tioti  seems  une(juivocal.  Schack  ((i(»s- 
chichte  der  dramatisehen  Literatur  in 
Spuiien,  Berlin,  1845,  8vo,  Tom.  IL 
]).  164)  thinks  the  fifteen  years  liere 
rel'cned  to  are  intended  to  embrace  the 
fifteen  years  of  Lope's  life  as  a  soldier, 
which  he  extends  from  Lo])e's  eleventh 
ye.u'to  his  twenty-sixth,  — 1.57;?  to  1588. 
But  Schack's  ground  for  this  is  a  mis- 
take he  had  himself  previously  made  in 
sui)posing  the  Dedication  of  the  "Gato- 
luaehia  "  to  be  addressed  to  Lope  hhn- 
sclf ;  whereas  it  is  addressed  to  his  son, 
named  Lopr,  who  served,  at  the  age  of 
pftiTii,  uudci'  th(!  Mar([uis  of  Santa  ("I'uz, 


as  we  shall  see  hereafter.  The  "Cu))i(I 
in  arms,"  therefore,  referred  to  in  this 
Dedication,  fsiils  to  prove,  what  Sciuick 
thought  it  proved  ;  and  leaves  the  "fif- 
teen years"  as  dark  a  point  as  ever. 
See  Schack,  pp.  157,  etc. 

^  These  arc  the  earliest  works  of  Lope 
mentioned  by  his  eulogists  and  biogra- 
phers, (ObrasSuelta..s,  Tom.  XX.  p.  30,) 
and  must  be  dated  ai  early  as  1582  or 
1583.  The  "Pastoral  de  Jacinto"  is  in 
the  Comedias,  Tom.  XVIII.,  l)ut  was 
not  ]ninted  till  1623. 
^  ^  In  the  epistle  to  Doctor  Gicgoiio  de 
Angulo,  (Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  I.  p.  420,) 
he  says:  "Don  Geionimo  Manriijue 
biought  me  up.  I  studied  in  Alcala, 
and  took  the  di^gree  of  Bachelor  ;  1  was 
even  on  the  point  of  becoming  a  j>riest  ; 
but  1  fell  blindly  in  love,  God  forgive 
it  ;  I  am  married  now,  and  he  that  is 
so  ill  off  fears  nothing."  Elsewhere  he 
si)eaks  of  his  obligations  to  Mani'ique 
more  warmly  ;  for  instance,  in  his  Dedi- 
cation of  "Pobreza  no  es  Vil(!za,"  (Co- 
.meilias,  4to,  Tom.  XX.,  Madrid,  1629,) 
where  his  language  is  veiy  sti'ong. 


184       l.OPE  I)E  VEGA  AM)  THE  DUKE  OF  ALAW.     [Pkkk.i)  II. 

the  tales  he  tells  of  luuiseH'  in  his  "Dorothea."  Avhieli 
Avas  written  in  his  vouth  and  })rinte(l  with  the  sanc- 
tion ol'  his  old  age,  he  suffered  great  extremity  from 
that  passion  when  lie  was  only  seventeen.  Some  of 
the  stones  of  that  remarkahle  dramatic  romance,  in 
Avhicli  he  fignres  under  the  name  of  Fernando,  are,  i^ 
may  he  hoped,  fictitious;''  though  it  must  he  ad- 
mitted that  others,  like  the  scene  l)etween  the  hero 
and  Dorothea,  in  the  first  act,  the  account  of  his 
Aveeping  hehind  the  door  with  Marfisa,  on  the  da\' 
>;he  Avas  to  he  married  to  another,  and  most  of  the 
narrative  parts  in  the  fourth  act,  liaAc  an  air  of 
reality  ahout  them  that  hardly  permits  us  to  douht 
they  Avere  true.^"  Taken  together.  hoAvever,  they  do 
him  little  credit  as  a  young  man  of  honor  and  a  caA'- 

alier. 
*  1-jG         *  From    Alcala,  Lope  came    to   Madrid,  and 

attached  himself  to  the  Duke  of  Alva ;  not, 
as  it  has  heen  generally  supposed,  the  remorseless 
favorite  of  Philip  the  Second,  but  Antonio,  the  great 
Duke's  o-randson,  Avho  had  succeeded  to  his  ancestor's 
fortunes    Avituout     inheriting    his    Ibrmidahle    spirit.^^ 

^  See  DorotfM,  Acto  I.  sc.  fi,  in  which,  giving  to  oiif  poison  tho  lotter  intended 

having  loolly  niiidc  iiji  his  mind  to  aban-  for  another,  are  (juite  too  iniiirobahle, 

<hui    Martisa,    he  goes  to  her  and  ]ire-  and   too  niiieh  like    tlu;   inventions  of 

tends  lie  has  killed  one  man  and  wound-  some  of  hi.s  own  plays,   to  he  trusted, 

♦•d  another  in  a  night  hiawl,  obtaining  (Act.  A'',  sc.  3,  etc.)     M.  Fiuriid,  how- 

liy   this    ha,se   falsehood    the    unhappy  ever,  who.se  ojjinion  on  such  subjects  i.s 

<;reature's  jewels,    which   he  needed  to  always    to    be    respected,    regards    the 

iiay  his  ex])en.se.s,  and  which  .she  gave  whole  as  true.     KevuedesDeuxMondes, 

liim   out   of  her  overflowing  affection.  September  1,  1839. 
Franci.sco   Lopez   de   Aguilar,    who  de-  ''   Lord   Holland    treats  him   as   the 

fended   the  tlmatre  in   Lope  de  Vega's  olil  Duke  (Life  of  Lope  de  Vega,    Lon- 

lifetime,    says    of   the    Dorotea    (Obras  don,  1817,  2  vols.,  Svo)  ;  and  Southey 

<le  Lo]»e,  Tom.   VI I.   p.   vii),   " Siendo  (Quarterly  Review,  1817,  A^ol.  XVII L 

<;ierta  imitaeion  de  verdad,  le  parecia  i>.  2)  undertakes  to  show  that  it  could 

<{ue  no  lo  .seria  hablando  las  pei-sonas  be   no   other  ;  while    Nicolas   Antonio 

•en  verso."  (Bib.  Nov.,  Tom.   II.  p.  74)  speaks  as 

1°  Act  I.  .sc.   5,  and  Act  IV.  .sc.  1,  if  he  were  doubtful,  thongh  he  inclines 

liave  a  gieat  air  of  reality  about  them.  to  think  it  was  the  elder.      But  there 

But  otiier  parts,    like  tliat  of  the  dis-  is  no  doubt  about  it.      Lope  repeatedly 

courses  and    tl()^ble^    ili;it    i-.um-   frDUi  speaks  ol' Antonio,  i(/(t' <//v'«(/,vrr/),  as  his 


Cv.w.  XI 1 1.]  TlIK    AiU'ADlA.  .      185 

Lope  was  iniicli  liked  by  his  new  patron,  and  rose 
to  be  his  confidential  secretary,  living  with  him 
both  at  court  and  in  his  retirement  at  Alva,  where 
letters  seem  for  a  time  to  have  taken  the  place  of 
arms  and  affairs.  At  the  suggestion  of  the  Duke, 
he  wi'ote  his  "  Arcadia,"  a  pastoral  romance,  making 
a  volume  of  considerable  size  ;  and,  though  chiefly 
in  prose,  yet  with  poetry  of  various  kinds  freely 
intermixed.  Such  compositions,  as  we  have  seen, 
w^ere  alreadj^  favored  in  Spain;  —  the  last  of  them, 
the  "Galatea"  of  Cervantes,  published  in  1584,  giv- 
ing, perhaps,  occasion  to  the  Arcadia,  which  seems 
to  have  been  written  almost  immediately  afterwards. 
Most  of  them  have  one  striking  peculiarity;  that 
of  concealing,  under  the  forms  of  pastoral  life  in 
ancient  times,  adventures  which  had  really  occurred 
in  the  times  of  their  respective  authors.  The 
Duke  was  desirous  to  figure  among  these  *  fan-  *  157 
tastic  shepherds  and  shepherdesses,  and  there- 
fore induced  Lope  to  write  the  Arcadia,  and  make 
liim  its  hero,  furnishing  some  of  his  own  experiences 
as  materials  for  the  work.  At  least,  so  the  affair  was 
understood  both  in  Spain  and  France,  when  the  Arca- 
dia was  published,  in  1598 ;  besides  which.  Lope  him- 
self, a  few  years  later,  in  the  Preface  to  some  miscel- 

jiatioii  ;  e.  g.  in  his  epistle  to  the  Risli-  tlie  last  an  accoimt  of  his  death  and  of" 

(iji  ofOviedo,  where  he  says  : —  tlie  glories  of  his  ffrandsov,  whom  li« 

Y  yodel Duque  ^«<on(o dexe  el  Alva.  again  notices  as  his  patron.     Indeed, 

Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  I.  p.  289.  the  ease  is  quite  plain,   and  it  is  only 

And  in  the  opening  words  of  the  Dedi-  singular  that  it  should  need  an  expla- 

catiou  of  his  "  Doniine  Lucas,"  where  nation;    for   the    idea    of   making    the 

he  says:   "Sirviendo   al   excelentisimo  Duke   of  Alva,    who    was    minister  to 

Don  Antonio  de  Toledo  y  Beamonte,  Philip  II.,  a  .she))herd,  seems  to  1)e  a 

Duque  de  Alva,  en  la  edad  que  pude  caricature   or   an   ab.surdity,    or   both. 

escribir  :  —  It  is,  however,  the  common  impression. 

La  verde  primavera  ii'i'l  "lay  be  again  found  in  the  Sema- 

De  mis  Horidos  anos."  nario    Pintoresco,    1839,    p.    18.      The 

Comedias,  Tom.  XVll.  lG21,f.  13",b.  younger  Duke,  on  the  contrary,  loved 

Hi',    however,    j)raised  the  elder  Duke  letters,   and,   if  I  mistake  not,  there  is 

idiuu  lautly  in  tlie   second,    third,    and  a  C7«?M;7>r/i  of  hi.-:  in  the  Cancionc^ro  C!en- 

iifth  books  of  the  "Arcadia,"  giving  in  eral  of  1573,  f.  178. 


186  TIIK    ARCADIA.  [Piikiud  II. 

Jaiieous  poems,  tells  us  expressly,  "'  The  Arcudiu  is  a 
true  history."  ^"^ 

l>ur  whether  it  be  throughout  a  true  history  or  not, 
it  is  a  very  unsatisfactory  one.  It  is  commonly  re- 
garded as  an  imitation  of  its  popular  namesake,  the 
-Arcadia''  of  Sanua/aro,  of  ^vhieh  a  Spanish  translation 
had  api)eared  in  l-)47 ;  hut  it  much  more  resend)les 
the  similar  works  of  Montemayor  and  Cervantes,  lioth 
in  story  and  style.  Metaphysics  and  magic,  as  in  the 
"Diana"  and  -  Galatea,"  are  strangely  mixed  up  with 
the  shows  of  a  pastoral  life  ;  and,  as  in  them,  we  listen 
with  little  interest  to  the  perplexities  and  sorrows  of  a 
lo\  er  who,  from  mistaking  the  feelings  of  his  mistress, 
treats  her  in  such  a  way  that  she  marries  another,  and 
then,  by  a  series  of  enchantments,  is  saved  from  the 
effects  of  his  own  despair,  and  his  heart  is  washed  so 
clean,  that,  like  Orlando's,  there  is  not  one  spot  of  love 
left  in  it.  All  this,  of  course,  is  unnatural ;  for  the 
personages  it  represents  are  such  as  can  never  have 
existed,  and  they  talk  in  a  language  strained  above 
the  tone  becoming  prose  ;  all  propriety  of  costume  and 
manners  is  neglected ;  so  much  learning  is  crowded 
into  it,  that  a  dictionary  is  placed  at  the  end  to  make 
it  intelligible  ;  and  it  is  drawn  out  to  a  length  wdiich 
now  seems  quite  absurd,  though  the  edition;?  it  soon 
passed  through  show  that  it  was  not  too  long  for  the 

1-  Tlif  truth  of  tlip  stones,  or  some  also,  Lope,  Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  XIX. 
of  tin-  stories,  in  tlie  Arcadia,  may  l>e  \\.  xxii,  and  Tom.  II.  p.  4r)6.  That  it 
inferred  from  the  mysterious  iiitima-  was  believed  to  be  true  in  France  is  ap- 
tions  of  Lojie  in  the  Pr<)]of(o  to  the  fiist  ])arent  from  the  Preface  to  old  Lance- 
edition  ;  in  th(^  "  Egloga  a  riaudio";  lot's  translation,  under  the  title  of 
and  in  tiie  Preface  to  the  "  Iiimas,"  "  Delices  de  la  Vie  Pastorale"  (1624). 
(I<i02,)  put  into  the  shape  of  a  letter  to  Figueroa  (Pasagero,  1617,  f.  97,  b)  says 
Juan  de  Arguijo.  Quintana,  too,  in  the  .same  thing  of  pastorals  in  general, 
the  Dedication  to  Lope  of  his  "  Expe-  and  cites  the  Galatea  and  the  Arcadia 
riencias  de  Amor  y  Fortuna,"  (1626,)  in  jnoof  of  it.  It  is  important  to  settle 
suys  of  the  Arcadia,  that  "  under  a  rude  the  fact,  for  it  must  be  referred  to 
covering  arc  hidden  .souls  that  are  nobli'  hereafter.  See  ^josi,  Chap.  XXXIII., 
and  event.'j  that  really  happened."     Sr-i-,  note  8. 


riiAP.  XIII. J 


LOPE    DE    VE(;A    MARKIED. 


187 


tiiste  of  its  time.      It  sliould  he  jidded,  however, 
that  *  it  occtasionally  furnishes  happy  specimens    *  158 
of  a   glowing  dechiniatory  eloquence,  and  that 
in  its  descriptions  of  natural  scenery  there   is   some- 
times great  felicity  of  imagery  and  illustration.^'^ 

zVbout  the  time  when  Lope  was  writing  the  Arcadia, 
he  married  Isabela  de  Urbina,  daughter  of  the  King-at- 
arms  to  Philip  the  Second  and  Philip  the  Thii-d  ;  a  lady, 
we  are  told,  not  a  little  loved  and  admired  in  the  high 
circle  to  which  she  belonged.^*  But  his  domestic  hnp- 
piness  Avas  soon  interrupted.  He  fell  into  a  quari-el 
Avitli  a  hid(il(/o  of  no  very  good  repute ;  lampooned  him 
in  a  satirical  poem ;  was  challenged,  and  wounded 
his  adversary  ;  —  in  consequence  of  all  which,  and  of 
other  follies  of  his  youth  that  seem  now  to  have  been 
brought  up  against  him,  he  was  cast  into  prison.^^     He 


1^  The  Arcadia  fills  the  sixth  volume 
of  Lope's  Obras  Sueltas.  Editions  of  it 
were  printed  in  1598,  1.599,  ItiOl,  1(J02, 
twice,  1603,  1605,  1612,  1615,  1617, 
1620,  1630,  and  often  since,  showing  a 
gi-eat  ])opulaTity.  The  first  edition, 
1598,  which  I  possess,  and  which  I  su})- 
pose  is  the  first  of  Lope's  publications, 
makes  312  rt'.  in  l"2nio,  l)esi<les  the  pref- 
atory matter  and  hidex,  and  is  from 
the  press  of  Sanchez  at  Madrid.  It 
contains  a  wood-engraving  of  Lope, 
which  rejiresents  him  as  a  somewhat 
stiff  and  gayly  dressed  young  man. 

1*  Her  father,  Diego  de  Urbina,  was 
a  person  of  some  conse([nence,  and  fig- 
ures among  the  more  distinguished  na- 
tives of  Madrid  in  Baeua,  "  Hijos  dc; 
Madrid." 

1^  Montalvan,  it  should  he  noted, 
seems  willing  to  slide  over  these 
"frowns  of  fortune,  brought  on  by  liis 
youth  and  aggravated  by  his  enemies." 
But  Lope  attributes  to  them  his  exile, 
which  came,  he  says,  from  "love  in 
early  youth,  whose  trophies  were  exile 
and  its  results  tragedies."  (Epistola 
Primera  a  D.  Ant.  de  Mendoza. )  But 
he  also  attributes  it  to  false  friends,  in 
the  fine  ballad  where  he  re]>rcsents  him- 
self as  looking  down  upiou  the  ruins  of 


Saguntum  and  moralizing  on  his  own 
exile:  "Bad  friends,"  he  says,  "have 
brought  me  here."  (Obras  Sueltas, 
Tom.  XVIL  p.  434,  and  Romancero 
General,  1602,  f.  108.)  But  again,  in 
the  Second  Part  of  his  "  Philomena," 
1621,  (Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  II.  p.  452,) 
he  traces  his  ti'oubles  to  his  earlier  ad- 
ventures ;  "love  to  hatred  turned." 
"Love-vengeance,"  he  declares,  "dis- 
guised an  justice,  exiled  ine." 

But  the  whole  of  this  portion  of  Loi)e"s 
life  is  obscure.  Some  light,  however, 
is  thrown  on  it  by  a  letter  which  he 
addressed  to  the  king  in  1598,  and  a 
copy  of  which  I  obtained  from  tlu;  kind- 
ness of  the  last  Lord  Holland,  to  whose 
father,  the  biographer  of  liope,  it  was 
sent,  many  years  ago,  by  Don  Martin 
Fernandez  de  Navarrete.  As  it  is  im- 
portant, and,  I  think,  unpublished,  1 
give  it  entire.  It  seems  to  have  been 
written  from  the  villa  of  Madrid. 

"  Senor,  Lope  de  Vega  Carpio,  vecino 
de  esta  villa  dice  :  Que  V.  M.  le  ha 
hecho  merced  de  alzarle  lo  que  le  falta- 
ba  de  cumplir  de  diez  afios  de  desti(!ri'o 
en  que  fue  condenado  por  los  Alcaldes 
de  Coi'te  destc  reyno,  los  dos  que  cum- 
])li(')  y  los  ocho  della  y  cinco  leguas, 
porc^ue  se  le  opuso  haber  hecho  ciertas 


188 


LOPE    DE    VEGA    IN    VALENCIA. 


[Period  IL 


*  159  was  not.  however,  left  without  a  ^  true  IViend. 
Chiucho  ("onde.  who.  on  more  than  one  occa- 
sion, showed  a  genuhie  attachment  to  Lope's  jDcrson, 
accompanied  him  to  his  cell,  and.  when  he  was  released 
and  exiled,  went  with  him  to  \'alencia.  where  Lope 
himself  was  treated  with  extraoi'dinary  kindness  and 
consideration,  though  exposed,  he  says,  at  times,  to 
dangers  as  great  ;is  those  from  which  he  had  suflered 
so  much  at  Madrid.^'' 

The  exile  of  Lope  lasted  at  least  two  years,  and 
Mas  chiefly  passed  at  Valencia,  then  in  literary  reputa- 
tion next  after  Madrid  among  the  cities  of  Spain.  Nor 
does  he  seem  to  have  missed  the  advantages  it  offered 
him  :  for  it  was,  no  doubt,  during  his  residence  there 
that  he  formed  a  friendship  with  Gaspar  de  Aguilar 
and  (ruillen  de  Castro,  of  which  many  traces  are  to  be 
Ibund   in   his  works;    while,  on  the   other  hand,  it   is 


satiras  contra  Geronimo  Velazquez,  au- 
tor  de  coniedias  y  otras  i)ersonas  de  sii 
casa,  y  porque  durante  <li('ho  destierro 
a  cosas  forzosas  que  se  le  ofrecieiou 
eutro  en  esta  coite  y  otras  partes  en 
<luebrantamiento  del  ;  —  suj)li(:a  le  haga 
nierced  de  reniitirle  las  penas  ijue  por 
ello  incurno." 

The  following  note  is  in  Xavarrete's 
well-known  liandwriting  :  "Me  lo  envio 
de  Sinianca.s  el  Sr.  D.  Tomas  Gonzalez 
encargado  del  arreglo  de  aquel  arcliivo 
uacional.  ilartin  Fernandez  de  Navar- 
rete."  And  on  the  back  is  indorsed, 
"Carta  de  Lope  de  Vega  al  Key  pidi- 
endo  le  haga  la  giacia  de  remitir  las 
penas  incurridas  por  el,  ano  1598." 

From  this  letter  it  apjwars  that  the 
avowed  cause  of  Lope's  exile  was  cer- 
tain satires  against  Geronimo  Velaz- 
quez, autor  de  Comedia.s,  and  other  per- 
sons of  his  kin  ;  —  that  he  had  broken 
it;;  terms  by  coming  within  the  five 
leagues  of  the  court  from  which  he 
was  forbidden  ;  and  that  he  now  asked 
a  pardon  from  th<'  penalties  he  had 
tlius  ineurred,  having  already  obtained 
a  remission  of  the  term  of  exile  not  yet 
fulfilled.     Now  there  is  a  certain  Ve- 


lazquez noticed  in  C.  Pellicer's  "  Origen 
de  la  Comedia,"  etc.,  (Madrid,  1804, 
Tom.  II.  p.  141,)  who  answers  all  the 
conditions  given  by  Moutalvan  and 
Lope  of  the  "Autor  de  Comedias  "  in 
question,  and  Pellicer  has  given  part 
of  a  popular  satire  on  him,  which,  it  is 
not  unlikely,  may  be  the  very  one 
for  which  Lope  wa.s  exiled.  Pellicer, 
however,  neither  suspected  the  distin- 
guished authorsliip  of  the  verses  he 
cites,  nor  knew  the  first  name  of  Velaz- 
quez. 

1^  His  relations  with  Claudio  are  no- 
ticed by  himself  in  the  Dedication  to 
that  "true  friend,"  as  he  justly  calls 
liim,  of  the  well-known  play,  "Court- 
ing his  own  ilisfortunes  "  ; — "which 
title,"  he  adds,  "is well  .suited  to  those 
adventures,  wlien,  with  so  much  love, 
you  accompanied  me  to  prison,  from 
which  we  went  to  Valencia,  wliere  we 
ran  into  no  less  dangers  than  we  had 
incunvd  at  home,  and  where  1  lepaid 
you  by  liberating  you  from  the  tower 
of  Serranos  [a  jail  at  Valencia]  and  the 
severe  .sentence  you  were  there  under- 
going," etc.  Comedias,  Tom.  XV., 
Madrid,  1621,  f.  26. 


Cii.u'.  XIII.]  IILS    WIFE    DIES.  189 

perhaps  not  um-easoiiahle  to  assuiiiu  that  the  theatre, 
which  was  just  then  beti-inuiiig  to  take  its  form  in 
Valencia,  w^as  much  indebted  to  the  fresh  power  of 
Lope  for  an  impulse  it  never  afterwards  lost.  At  any 
rate,  we  know  that  he  was  much  connected  with  the 
Valencian  poets,  and  that,  a  little  later,  the}'  were 
amono;  his  marked  followers  in  the  drama.  15ut  his 
exile  was  still  an  exile,  —  bitter  and  wearisome  to 
him,  —  and  he  gladly  returned  to  Madrid  as  soon  as 
he  could  venture  there  safely. 

His  home,  however,  soon  ceased  to  be  what  it  had 
been.  His  vonno-  wife  died  in  less  than  a  year 
after  his  *  return,  and  one  of  his  friends,  Pedro  *  160 
de  Medinilla,^'  joined  him  in  an  eclogue  to  her 
memory,  which  is  dedicated  to  Lope's  patron,  Antonio, 
Duke  of  Alva,^*^  —  a  poem  of  little  value,  and  one  that 
does  much  less  justice  to  his  feelings  than  some  of  his 
numerous  verses  to  the  same  lady,  under  the  name  of 
Belisa,  which  are  scattered  through  his  own  works  and 
found  in  the  old  Romanceros.^'^ 

^■^  Baltasar  Elisio  de  Mediiiilla,  -whose  in  the  Arcadia,  as  may  be  seen  fiom 

violent  death  is  mourned  by   Lope  de  the  sonnet  i)retixed  to  that  pastoral  by 

Vega  in  an  Elegy  in  the  fust  volume  Amphryso,  or  Antonio,  Duke  of  Alva  ; 

of  his  works,   wrote  a  Poem  entitled  and  it  is  the  poetical  name  Lope  bore 

"  Limpia  Concepcion  de  la  Virgen  Nu-  to  the  time  of  his  death,  as  may  be  seen 

estra  Sehora,"  Madrid,  1617,  12mo,  pp.  from  the  beginning  of  the  thiixl  act  of 

89,  —  the  fruit,   he  tells  us,   of  seven  the   drama   in    honor  of  his  memory, 

years'  labor,  and  published  at  the  age  (Obras   Sueltas,     Tom.    XX.    ]>.    41)4. ) 

of  thirty-two.     Lope,  in  some  prefatory  Even  his  Peruvian  Amaryllis  knew  it, 

verses,  says  of  it,  —  and  under  this  name  addressed  to  him 

Letor  no  ay  silaba  aqui  the  poetical  epistle  already  referred  to. 

Que  de  oro  puro  no  sea,  ec.  This  fact  —  that  Belardo  was  his  recog- 

But  it  is,  after  all,  a  dull  poem,  divided  nized  poetical  appellation  —  should  be 

into  five  books,  and  about  five  hundred  borne  in  mind  when  reading  the  poetry 

octave  stanzas,  beginning  with  the  of  his  time,  where  it  fi-ecjueutly  recurs, 
prayers  of  Joachim   for   offspring,    and  ^^  Belisa  is  an   anagram  of  Isahe.hi, 

ending  with  the  mysterious  conce})tion.  th(!  first  name  of  his  wife,  as  is  plain 

The  subject  —  always  popular  in  Spain  from    a    sonnet    on    the    death    of    her 

—  may  have  gained  more  regard  for  it  niotlier,    Theodora    Urlnna,    where    lie 

than  it  deserved  ;  but  it  was  never  re-  speaks  of  her  as   "the  heavenly  imago 

printed.  of  his  Belisa,  whose  silent  words  and 

1^  Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  IV.  pp.  430-  gentle  smiles  had  been  thi^  consolation 

443.     Bclarih),  the  name  Lope  bears  in  of  his  exile."     (Obras  Suelta.s,  Tom.  lY. 

this  eclogue,  is  the  one  he  gave  himself  p.  278.)     There  are  several  ballads  con- 


190  LOPE    DE    VEGA    IX    THE    AKMADA.        [Vevaud  II. 

It  must  be  admitted,  however,  that  there  is  some  con- 
fusion in  this  matter.  The  balhids  bear  witness  to  the 
jealousy  felt  lj\'  Isaliela  on  account  of  his  relations  with 
another  fair  lady,  who  passes  under  the  name  of  Filis. 
—  a  jealous}' which  seems  to  have  caused  him  no  small 
embarrassment;  for  while,  in  some  of  his  verses,  he  de- 
clares it  has  no  foundation,  in  others  he  admits  and  jus- 
tifies it.-^  But  however  this  may  have  been,  a  very 
short  time  after  Isabela's  death  he  made  no  secret 
of   his    passion    for    the    rival  who  had   disturbed   her 

peace.  He  was  not,  however,  successful.  For 
*  161    some  reason  *or  other,  the  lady  rejected  his  suit. 

He  was  in  despair,  as  his  ballads  prove  ;  but  his 
despair  did  not  last  long.  In  less  than  a  year  from  the 
death  of  Isabela  it  was  all  over,  and  he  had  again  taken, 
to  amuse  and  distract  his  thoughts,  the  genuine  Spanish 
resource  of  becoming  a  soldier. 

The  moment  in  which  he  made  this  decisive  chano^e 

o 

in  his  life  was  one  when  a  spirit  of  military  adventure 
was  not  nnlikely  to  take  possession  of  a  character 
always  seeking  excitement ;  for  it  was  just  as  Philip 
the  Second  was  preparing  the  portentous  Armada,  with 
which  he  hoped,  by  one  blow,  to  overthrow  the  power 
of  Elizabeth  and  bring  back  a  nation  of  heretics  to 
the  bosom  of  the  Church.  Lope,  therefore,  as  he 
tells  us  in  one  of  his  eclogues,  finding  the  lady  of  his 
love  would  not  smile  upon  him,  took  his  musket  on 
his  shoulder,  amidst  the  universal  enthusiasm  of  1588, 
marched  to  Lisbon,  and,  accompanied   hy  his  faithful 

iiected  with  lior  in  tlie  Koniancpro  (Jen-  Bclisa,  "Let  Heaven  condemn  me  to 
eral,  and  a  beautiful  one  in  tlie  tiiird  of  eternal  woe,  if  I  do  not  detest  Pliillis 
Lope's  Tales,  written  evidently  while  and  adore  tliee  "  ; — which  may  he  con- 
he  was  with  the  Duke  of  Alva.  Obras,  sidereil  as  fullv  contradicted  by  the 
Tom.  VIII.  p.  148.  e(|ually  fine  ballad  addres.sed  to  Filis, 
'^'  For  instance,  in  the  line  ballad  be-  (f.  13,)  "  Amada  ]iastora  mia  "  ;  as  well 
grinning,  "  Llenos  de  I'grimas  tristes,"  as  by  six  or  eight  others  of  the  same 
(Komancero  of  1602,  f.  47,)  he  says  to  sort," — some  more,  some  less  tender. 


< H.vi'.   Xlll.]      LOl'E    DE    VEGA    IN    THE    ARMADA.  191 

friend  Conde,  went  on  board  the  magnificent  arma- 
ment destined  for  England,  where,  he  says,  he  used 
up  lor  wadding  the  verses  he  had  written  in  liis 
lady's  praise."^ 

A  succession  of  disasters  followed  this  ungallant 
jest.  His  brother,  from  whom  he -had  long  been  sep- 
arated, and  whom  he  now  found  as  a  lieuteniint  on 
l)oard  the  Saint  John,  in  which  he  himself  served, 
<lied  in  his  arms  of  a  wound  received  during  a  fight 
with  the  Dutch.  Other  great  troubles  crowded  after 
this  one.  Storms  scattered  the  unwieldy  fleet ;  ca- 
lamities of  all  kinds  confounded  prospects  that  had 
just  before  been  so  full  of  glory;  and  Lope  must 
have  thought  himself  but  too  happy,  wdien,  after  the 
Armada  had  been  dispersed  or  destroyed,  he  was 
brought  back  in  safety,  first  to  Cadiz  and  afterwards 
to  Toledo  and  Madrid,  reaching  the  last  cit}^,  prob- 
i\h\y,  in  1590.  It  is  a  cin^ious  fact,  however,  in  his 
personal  history,  that,  amidst  all  the  terrors  and  suf- 
ferings of  this  disastrous  expedition,  he  found  leisure 
and  quietness  of  spirit  to  write  the  greater 
part  of  his  long  *  poem  on  "  The  Beauty  of  *  162 
Angelica,"  wdiich  he  intended  as  a  continua- 
tion of  the  "  Orlando  Furioso."  ^ 

But  Lope  could  not  well  retm^n  from  such  an  expe- 
dition without  something  of  that  feeling  of  disap- 
pointment which,  with  the  nation  at  large,  accompa- 
nied its  failure.  Perhaps  it  was  owing  to  this  that  he 
■entered  again  on  the  poor  course  of  life  of  which  he 

21  Volando  en  taeof!  del  canon  violonto  turned   to   Cadiz   ill   September,    ir)8S, 

LospapelesdeFilisporelyiento.  having  sailed  from  Lisbon   in   tll(!   pre- 

Egloga  i  Claudio,  Obras,  Tom.  IX  p.  35G.  ceding  May  ;  so  that  Lope  was  proba- 

"  One  of  his   poetical   panegyrists,  bly  at  sea  about  four  months.     Further 

after  his  death,  speaking  of  the  Anna-  notices   of  his   naval   service   may   be 

^la,  says  :   "  There  and  in  Cadiz  he  wrote  found  in  the  third  canto  of  his  "  Coro- 

the  Angelica."     (Obras,  Tom.   XX.  )>.  na   Tragiea,"    and    the   second   of   his 

•348.)     The  remains  of  the  Armada  re-  "  riiilomena." 


192 


LOTE  DE  YEGA'S  SECOXD  MAURIAGE.      [Pkuiod  II. 


had  already  made  an  exiDeriment  with  the  Duke  of 
Alva,  and  became  secretarv.  first  of  the  Marquis  of 
Malpica.  and  afterwards  of  the  generous  Marquis 
of  Sarria.  who.  as  Count  de  Jamuos,  was,  a  little  later, 
the  patron  of  Cervantes  and  the  Argensolas.  While 
he  was  in  the  servict.^  of  the  last  distinguished  noble- 
man, and  already  known  as  a  dramatist,  lie  became 
attached  to  Dona  Juana  de  Guardio.  a  lady  of  good 
iamily  in  Madi'id.  whom  he  luarricd  in  1597;  and. 
soon  afterwards  leaving  the  Count  de  Lemos.  had 
never  anv  other  patrons  than  those  whom,  like  the 
Duke  of  Sessa.  his  literaiy  fame  procured  for  liim.-^ 

Lope  had  now  reached  the  age  of  thirty-five,  and 
seems  to  have  enjoyed  a  few  years  of  happiness,  to 
which  he  often  alludes,  and  which,  in  two  of  his 
l)oetical  epistles,  he  has  described  with  much  gentle- 
ness and  grace.-^     But  it  did   not   last  long.      A  son. 

Carlos,  to  whom  he  was  tenderly  attached. 
*  1G3     lived    ouly   to    his    seventh    *year;-'^    and    the 

mother  died,  giving  birth,  at  the  same  time, 
to  Feliciana,-*^  who  was  afterwards  married  to  Don 
Luis  de  Usategui,  the  editor  of  some  of  his  fiither-in- 


^^  Don  I'cdrcj  Fcniiiiidez  dc  Castro, 
Count  of  Lemos  and  Maniuis  of  Sania, 
who  was  born  in  Madnd  about  1576, 
nmn-ied  a  daugliti-r  of  the  Duke  de 
Lcnna,  the  rci^^niing  favorite  and  min- 
ister of  thi?  time,  witli  whose  fortunes 
lie  rose,  and  in  whose  fall  he  was  ruined. 
The  peiiod  of  Ins  highest  lionois  was 
that  following  his  aj)]K)intment  as  Viee- 
voy  of  Naples,  in  1610,  where  he  kept 
H  literarj'  court  of  no  little  splendor, 
that  hail  for  its  eliief  directors  the  two 
Argensolas,  and  with  which,  atone  time, 
Quevedo  was  connected.  The  count 
<lied  in  1622,  at  Madiid.  Lope's  prin- 
cipal connections  with  liini  were  when 
lie  was  3'oung,  and  before  he  had  come 
to  his  title  as  Count  de  Lemos.  He 
records  himself  as  "Secretary  of  the 
>Iarquis  of  Sarria,"  in  the  title-page  of 
the  Arcadia,  1598 ;  besides  which,  many 


years  afterwards,  when  writing  to  the 
Count  de  Lemos,  he  says  :  "  You  know 
how  I  love  and  reverence  you,  and  that, 
many  a  night,  I  liave  slept  at  your 
feet  like  a  dog."  Obras  Sueltas,  Tom. 
XYIL  p.  403.  Clcmencin,  Don  Qui.\- 
ote,  Parte  II.,  note  to  the  Dedica- 
toria. 

-*  Epi'stola  al  Doctor  ilathias  de  Por- 
ra.s,  and  Eju'stola  a  Amarylis  ;  to  which 
may  be  added  the  pleasant  epistle  to 
Francisco  de  Kioja,  in  which  he  de- 
scribes his  garden  and  the  friends  he 
received  in  it. 

^  On  this  .son,  see  Obras,  Tom.  L 
]>.  472  :  —  the  tender  Cavcion  on  liis 
death,  Tom.  XI IL  p.  365  ;  — and  the 
Ijeautiful  Dedication  to  him  of  the 
"  Pastores  de  Belen,"  Tom  XYI.  p.  xi. 

'^  Obras,  Tom.  I.  p.  472,  and  Tom. 
XX.  p.  34. 


<('nAi>.  XIII.]  Ills    INCONSISTENT    LIFE.  193 

law's  posthumous  woiks.  Lope  seems  to  have  felt 
bitterl}^  his  desolate  estate  after  the  death  of  his  wife 
and  son,  and  speaks  of  it  with  nineh  feeling  in  a 
poem  addressed  to  his  faithful  friend  Conde.^'  But 
earlier  than  this,  in  IGO"),  iui  illegitimate  daughter 
was  horn  to  him,  whom  he  named  Marcela, —  the  same 
to  whom,  in  1620,  he  dedicated  one  of  his  plays,  with 
extraordinary  expressions  of  affection  and  admiration,^^ 
and  who,  in  1621,  took  the  veil  and  retired  from  the 
world,  renewing  griefs,  which,  with  his  views  of  re- 
ligion, he  desired  rather  to  bear  with  patience,  and 
even  with  pride.^^  In  1606,  the  same  lady,  —  Doiia 
Maria  de  Luxan,  —  who  was  the  mother  of  Marcela, 
bore  him  a  son,  whom  he  named  Lope,  and  who,  at 
the  age  of  fourteen,  appears  among  the  poets  at  the 
canonization  of  San  Isidro/^*^  But  thouo-h  his  father 
had  fondly  destined  him  for  a  life  of  letters,  he  in- 
sisted on  becoming  a  soldier,  and,  after  serving  under 
the  Marquis  of  Santa  Cruz  against  the  Dutch  and 
the  Turks,  perished,  when  only  fifteen  years  old,  in 
a  vessel  which  was  lost  at  sea  wdth  all  on  board;^^ 
Lope  poured  forth  his  sorrows  in  a  piscatory  eclogue, 
less  full  of  feeling  than  the  verses  in  which  he  de- 
scribes Marcela  taking  the  veil.^'^ 

*  After  the  birth  of  these  two  children,  we    *  164 

2'  Obras,  Tom.  IX.  p.  3.55.  too  complacently  on  the  .s])len(lor  fjiven 
•28  a  j,^[  Kemedio  de  la  De.sdielia,"  a  to  the  occasion  by  the  king,  and  by  liis 
play  whose  story  is  from  the  old  liallads  patron,  the  Duke  de  Sessa,  who  desired 
or  the  "Diana"  of  Montemayor,   (Co-  to  honor  thus  a  favorite  and  famous 
madias,  Tom.  XIII.,  Madrid,  1620,)  in  poet.     Obras,  Tom.  I.  pj).  313-316. 
the  Preface  to  which  he  begs  his  daugh-  *'  Obras,  Tom.  XI.  pp.  495  and  596, 
ter  to  read  and  correct  it  ;  and  prays  where  his  father  jests  about  it.     It  is  a 
that  she  may  be  happy  in  spite  of  tin;  Glosa.     He  is  called  Lope  de  Vega  Car- 
perfections  which  render  earthly  happi-  pio,  el  mozo  ;  and  it  is  added,  that  he 
ness   almost   impossible   to   her.      She  was  not  yet  fourteen  years  old. 
long   survived    her    father,    and    died,  ^i  Obras,  Tom.  I.  pp.  472  and  316. 
much  reverenced  for  her  piety,  in  1688.  ^^  In  the  eclogue,   (Obras,   Tom.   X. 
'^^  The  description  of  Ids  grief,   and  p.    362,)    he    is    called,    after  both   his 
of  his  religious  feelings  as  she  took  the  father  and  his  mother,  Don  Lope  Felix 
veil,  is  solemn,  but  he  dwells  a  little  del  Carpio  y  Luxan. 
VOL.    II.                           13 


194  LOPE  DE  YEGA  liECOME.S  A  PKIE^T.       [I'kuioi,  11. 

hear  nothing  more  of  their  mother.  Indeed,  soon 
aftei'wards,  Lope,  no  longer  at  an  age  to  be  deluded 
b}'  his  passions,  began,  according  to  the  custom  of  his 
time  and  country,  to  turn  his  tlioughts  seriously  to 
religion.  He  devoted  himself  to  pious  Avorks,  as  his 
father  had  done  ;  visited  the  hospitals  regularly  ;  re- 
sorted daily  to  a  particular  church;  entered  a  secu.lar 
religious  congregation  ;  and  finally,  at  Toledo,  in  1609. 
according  to  Navarrete,  received  the  tonsure  and 
became  a  priest.  The  next  year  he  joined  the  same 
brotherhood  of  which  Cervantes  was  afterwards  a 
member.'^  In  1625,  he  entered  the  congregation  of 
the  native  priesthood  of  Madrid,  and  was  so  faithful 
and  exact  in  the  performance  of  his  duties,  that,  in 
1628,  he  was  elected  to  be  its  chief  chaplain.  He  is, 
therefore,  for  the  twenty-six  latter  years  of  his  long 
life,  to  be  regarded  as  strictly  connected  with  the 
Spanish  Church,  and  as  devoting  to  its  daih^  service 
some  portion  of  his  time.'^ 

But  we  must  not  misunderstand  the  position  in 
which,  through  these  relations.  Lope  had  now  placed 
himself,  nor  overrate  the  sacrifices  they  required  of 
him.  Such  a  connection  with  the  Church,  in  his 
time,  by  no  means  involved  an  a1)andoumeut  of 
the  world.  —  hardly  an  abandonment  of  its  pleasures. 

^  Pellicer,  ed.  Don  Quixote,  Tom.  I.  de  pacitMicia,  que  si  fuesen  voluntarios 

J),  i-xcix.     Navarrete,  Vida  de  Cervau-  como  precisos  no  fuera  a(pu  su  peniteii- 

tes,  1819,  p.  468.  eia  menos  que  principio  del  i)uigatorio." 

8*  There  is  a  difficult}'   about   these  — Inanotheiletteiot'Sciiteinher?,  1(511, 

relations  of  Lope  to  the  jmesthood  and  he  speaks  of  gettinf<  along  better  with 

to  his  married  life.     Of  course,  if  he  Ins   wife   Juana.      Of  course,   if  these 

t<jok  the  tonsure  in  1609,  he  could  not  dates  are  right,  the  reckoning  of  Pclli- 

be  a  married   man  in   1611  ;  and  yet  cer  and  Navarrete  is  wrong,  and  Lope 

Kcliack    (Nachti-age,    p.    .31)    gives    us  did  not  enter  the  priesthood  before  1611 

thes<'  words  from   an  autogiaph  letter  or  1612;  but  he  seems  by  his  li/dson 

of  Lope,  dated  Madrid,  July  6,  1611,  with  Maria  de  Lu.xan,  in  1605-6,  to 

and   found   among   the    papers   of  his  have  given  cause  enough  for  fiimily  dis- 

great  patron  and  executor,   the  Duq\ie  .sensions  smh  as  these  letters  intimate, 

de  Sessa,  viz.  :    "Aipii  paso,   Senor  ex-  The  "  brotherhood  "  ilid  not  imjily  celi- 

eelentisimo,   mi  vida  con  este  mal  im-  bacy. 
portuno  de  mi  mnjei',  egcrcitando  actos 


c"iiAi'.  XI 1 1. 1  MORE    INCONSISTEXCIES.  195 

On  the  contrary,  it  was  i-ather  regarded  as  one  of 
the  means  for  securhig  the  leisure  suited  to  a  hfe 
of  letters  and  social  ease.  As  such,  uncjuestionably, 
Lope  employed  it  ;  for,  during  the  long  series  of 
years  in  which  he  was  a  })riest,  and  gave  regular 
portions  of  his  time  to  offices  of  devotion 
*  and  charity,  he  was  at  the  height  of  favor  *  165 
and  fashion  as  a  poet.  And,  wdiat  may  seem  to 
us  more  strange,  it  was  during  the  same  period  he 
produced  the  greater  number  of  his  dramas,  not  a  few^ 
of  wdiose  scenes  oftend  against  the  most  unquestioned 
precepts  of  Christian  morality,  while,  at  the  same  time, 
in  their  title-pages  and  dedications,  he  carefulh^  sets 
forth  his  clerical  distinctions,  giving  peculiar  promi- 
nence to  his  place  as  a  Familiar  or  servant  of  the  Holy 
Office  of  the  Inquisition.*^ 

It  was,  however,  during  the  happier  period  of  his 
married  life  that  he  laid  the  foundations  for  his 
general  popularity  as  a  poet.  His  subject  w^as  well 
chosen.  It  Avas  that  of  the  great  feme  and  glory  of 
San  Isidro  the  Ploughman.  This  remarkable  personage, 
who  pla}s  so  distinguished  a  part  in  the  ecclesiastical 
history  of  Madrid,  is  supposed  to  have  been  born  in 
the  twelfth  century,  on  wdiat  afterwards  became  the 
site  of  that  city,  and  to  have  led  a  life  so  eminently 

35  I    notice    the    title    Familiar    del         Lope,  also,  sometimes  calls  liims(|lf 

kianto  Oficio  as  early  as  the  "  Jerusalen  Frcy  in  the  titles  of  his  works.     This, 

C'onquistada,"'  1609.     Frequently  after-  however,  it  should  be  noted,  is  a  ditfer- 

wards,  as  in  the  Comedias,  Tom.  II.,  ent  designation  from  Fr^y,  though  both 

VI.,  XL,  etc.,  no  other  title  is  put  to  come  from  the  Latin  Frater.     For  Fr^y 

his  name,  as  if  this  were  glory  enough,  means  a  monk,   and,   in  connnou  par- 

In  liis  time,   Familiar  meant  a  pei'son  lance,   a  monk  of  some  mendicant  or- 

who    could    at   any   moment  be   called  der  ;  whereas  Frcy  is  a  member,  whcth- 

into    the    service    of    the    In(|uisiti()n  ;  er  clerical  or  lay,   of  one  of  the  great 

but  had  no  special  office,  and  no  duties,  S))anish  military  and  religious  orders, 

till  he  was  summoned.      Covarruvias,  Thus  Lope  de  Vega  was  "Frcy  del  Or- 

ad  verb.     Lope,  in  his  "  Peregrino  en  den   de  Malta,"  —  not  a  small  honor, 

su    Patria,"    (1604,)   had  already   done  — and  Juan  de  la  Cruz  was  "  Frcy  Des- 

liomage    to   the   Inquisition,    calling  it  cabco  de  la  Keforma  de  Nuestra  Seno- 

"  Esta  santa  y  venerable  Inquisiciou,"  ra   del  Carmen," — a   severe   order  ot 

etc.     Lib.  II.  monks. 


196  THE   SAN   ISIDRO.  [Period  II. 

pious,  that  the  angels  came  down  and  ploughed  his 
grounds  for  him,  which  the  holy  man  neglected  in 
order  to  devote  his  time  to  religious  duties.  From  an 
early  period,  therefore,  he  enjoyed  much  consideration, 
and  was  regarded  as  the  patron  and  friend  of  the 
whole  territor}^,  as  well  as  of  the  city  of  Madrid  itself 
But  his  great  honors  date  from  the  year  1598.  In 
that  year  Philip  the  Third  was  dangerously  ill  at  a 
neighboring  village  ;  the  city  sent  out  the  remains  of 
Isidro  in  procession  to  avert  the  impending  calamity; 
the  king  recovered;   and  for  the  first  time  the   holy 

man  became  widelj'  fiimous  and  lashionable.'^*^ 
*  166  *  Lope  seized  the  occasion,  and  wrote  a  long 
-  poem  on  the  life  of  '•  Isidro  the  Ploughman,"  or 
Farmer ;  so  called  to  distinguish  him  from  the  learned 
saint  of  Seville  who  bore  the  same  name.  It  consists 
of  ten  thousand  lines,  exactly  divided  among  the  ten 
l)ooks  of  which  it  is  composed ;  and  yet  it  was  finished 
within  the  year,  and  published  in  1599.  It  has  no 
high  poetical  merit,  and  does  not,  indeed,  aspire  to  any. 
But  it  was  intended  to  be  popular,  and  succeeded.  It 
i>  written  in  the  old  national  five-line  stanza,  carefully 
rhymed  throughout;  and,  notwithstanding  the  appar- 
ent difficulty  of  the  measure,  it  everywhere  affords 
unequivocal  proof  of  that  facility  and  fluency  of  versifi- 
cation for  which  Lope  became  afterwards  so  fiinious. 
Its  tcme,  which,  on  the  most  solemn  matters  of  religion, 
is  so  fiiiilliiir  that  we  should  now  consider  it  indeco- 
rous, was  no  doubt  in  full  consent  with  the  spirit  of  the 

^  He  was,  from  a  very  early  period,  drid  in  1779  contains  a  list  of  the  kings 
honored  at  home,  in  Madrid,  and  has  who  had  ])aid  rcvcience  to  the  ])oor 
continued  to  he  so  ever  since;  —  his  ploufifliniaii,  and  among  tliem  are  St. 
humble  origin  and  gentle  character  con-  Ferdinand  and  Alfonso  the  Wise.  Klo- 
trihuting  no  <loubt  to  his  j)opularity.  gio  a  San  Isidro,  Labrador,  Patron  de 
A  poem  urging  intercessions  to  him  in  Madrid,  por  D.  Joachin  Ezquerra,  Ma- 
consequence  of  a  great  drought  at  Ma-  drid,  1779,  18mo,  jq).  14. 


CiiAi'.   XIII.]  THK    SAX    ISIDKO.  197 

times,  ;ind  one  main  cause  of  its  success.  Tlius,  in 
Canto  Third,  where  the  angels  come  to  Isidro  and  his 
wife  Mary,  who  are  too  poor  to  entertain  them,  Lope 
describes  the  scene  —  which  ought  to  be  as  solemn  as 
anything  in  the  poem,  since  it  involves  the  facts  on 
which  Isidro's  claim  to  canonization  was  subsequently 
admitted  —  in  the  following  light  verses,  which  may 
serve  as  a  specimen  of  the  measure  and  style  of  the 
whole ;  — 

Three  angels,  sent  by  gi-ace  divine. 

Once  on  a  time  blessed  Abraham's  sight ;  — 

To  Mamre  came  that  vision  bright, 

AVhose  number  shouhl  our  thoughts  incline 

To  Him  of  whom  the  Prophets  write. 
But  six  now  came  to  Isidore  ! 

And,  heavenly  powers  !  what  consternation  ! 

Where  is  his  hospitable  store  ? 

Surely  they  come  with  consolation, 

And  not  to  get  a  timely  ration. 
Still,  if  in  haste  unleavened  bread 

Mary,  like  Sarah,  now  could  bake, 
*  Or  Isidore,  like  Abraham,  take  *lti7 

The  lamb  that  in  its  pasture  fed, 

And  lioney  from  its  waxen  cake, 
I  know  he  would  his  guests  invite  ;  — 

But  whoso  ploughs  not,  it  is  right 

His  sufferings  the  price  should  pay  ;  — 

And  how  has  Isidore  a  way 

Six  such  to  harbor  for  a  night  ? 
And  yet  he  stands  forgiven  there, 

Though  friendly  bidding  he  make  none  ; 

For  poverty  prevents  alone  ;  — 

But,  Isidore,  thou  still  canst  spare 

What  surest  rises  to  God's  throne. 
Let  Abraham  to  slay  arise  ; 

But,  on  the  ground,  in  sacrifice, 

Give,  Isidore,  thy  soul  to  God, 

Who  never  doth  the  heart  despise 

That  bows  beneath  his  rod. 
He  did  not  ask  for  Isaac's  death  ; 

He  asked  for  Abraham':;  willing  faith. ^ 

*?  Tres  ^npceles  a  Abraham  Seis  vienen  a  Tsjdro  i  ver : 

Una  voz  apareciernn,  0  srran  Dios,  que  puede  i^er? 

Que  a  verle  4  Manibrc  viuieron  :  Donde  los  ha  de  alvergar  ? 

Bien  que  a  este  n'lmero  dan  Mas  vienen  4  consolar, 

El  que  en  figura  trujeron.  Que  no  vienen  4  comer. 


198 


THE    lIEKMObUllA    DE    ANGELICA.  [Pekku)  II. 


No  doubt,  8ome  of  the  circumstances  in  the  poem  are 
invented  for  the  occasion,  though  there  is  in  the  mar- 
gin much  parade  of  authorities  for  ahnost  everything ; 
—  a  practice  very  connnon  at  that  period,  to  which 
Lope  afterwards  conformed  only  once  or  twice.  But 
however  we  may  now  regard  the  "  San  Isidro,"  it  was 
printed  four  times  in  less  than  nine  years  ;  and  by  ad- 
dressing itself  more  to  the  national  and  popular  feel- 
ing than  the  '"  Arcadia"  had  done,  it  became  the  earli- 
est foundation  for  its  author's  fame  as  the  favorite  poet 

of  the  whole  nation. 
*  108         *  xVt  this  time,  however,  he  was  beginning  to 

be  so  much  occupied  with  the  theatre,  and  so  suc- 
cessfulj  that  he  had  little  leisure  for  anything  else.  His 
next  considerable  publication,^®  therefore,  was  not  till 
1602,  when  the  "  Hermosura  de  Angelica,"  or  The 
Beauty  of  Angelica,  aj)peared  ;  a  poem  already  men- 
tioned as  having  been  chiefly  written  while  its  author 
served  at  sea  in  the  ill-fated  Armada.  It  somewhat  pre- 
sumptuously claims  to  be  a  continuation  of  the  "'  Orlando 
Furioso,"  and  is  stretched  out  through  twenty  cantos, 
comprehending  above  eleven  thousand  lines  in  octave 
verse.  In  the  Preface,  he  says  he  wrote  it  '•  under  the 
rigging  of  the  galleon  Saint  John  and  tiie  l)anuers  of 


Si  como  Sara,  Maria 

Cocer  luepo  pan  ])udiera, 

Y  c'l  como  Abraham  truxera 
El  fordero  que  pacia, 

Y  la  niicl  entre  la  rcra, 
Yo  s<;  que  los  convidara. 

Mas  (juando  lo  quo  no  ara, 
Ije  dicen  que  ha  de  pagar ; 
Como  jK)dr.i  convidar 
A  wis  de  tan  buena  cara? 

Disculpado  puede  estar, 
Puesto  (|ue  no  los  convide, 
Pues  su  pobreza  lo  impide, 
Isidro,  aunque  puede  dar 
Muy  bicn  lo  que  Dios  le  pide. 

A'aya  Abraham  al  pmado, 

Y  en  el  snelo  huniilde  echado, 
iJadle  el  alma,  Isitiro,  vos, 
Que  nunea  des))re<-ia  Dios 

Kl  corazon  huniillado. 
No  queria  el  sjirritieio 


De  Tsaae,  sino  la  obcdiencia 

De  Abraham. 

Obnis  Sueltas,  Tom.  XI.  p.  69. 
The  three  angels  that  came  to  Ahra- 
haiu  arc  often  taken  hy  tlie  elder  tlieo- 
logian.s,  as  they  are  by  Lope,  to  syni- 
holizc  the  Tiinity.  Xavarrete — more 
cuninioiily  known  a.s  £1  Miulo,  or  the 
I  )tiinl)  Painter — endeavored  to  give  this 
e.\l)re.s.sion  to  them  on  canvas.  Stirling's 
Arti.sts  in  S]iain,  1848,  Vol.  L  p.  2.55. 

^  The  "Fiestas  de  Denia,"  a  jioem 
in  two  short  cantos,  on  the  reception 
of  I'hilip  III.  at  Denia,  near  Valencia, 
in  1.599,  soon  aftei'  his  niariiage,  was 
piinted  the  .same  year,  but  is  ol  little 
consecjuence. 


Chap.  XIIL]       THE    IlEKMOSURA    DE    ANGELICA.  199 

the  Catholic  king."  and  that  -lie  and  the  generalissimo 
of  the  expedition  finished  their  labors  together";  —  a 
remark  Avhich  must  not  be  taken  too  strictly,  since 
both  the  thirteenth  and  twentieth  cantos  contain  pas- 
sages relating  to  events  in  the  reign  of  Philip  the 
Third.  Indeed,  in  the  Dedication,  he  tells  his  patron 
that  he  had  suffered  the  whole  j^oem  to  lie  by  him  long 
for  want  of  leisure  to  correct  it ;  and  he  elsewhere 
adds,  that  he  leaves  it  still  unfinished,  to  be  completed 
by  some  happier  genius. 

It  is  not  unlikely  that  Lope  was  induced  to  write  the 
Angelica  by  the  success  of  several  poems  that  had  pre- 
ceded it  on  the  same  series  of  fictions,  and  especially 
by  the  favor  shown  to  one  published  only  two  years  be- 
fore, in  the  same  style  and  manner,  —  the  '"Angelica'^ 
of  Luis  Barahona  de  Soto,  which  is  noticed  with  ex- 
traordinary praise  in  the  scrutiny  of  the  Knight  of  La 
Mancha's  Library,  as  well  as  in  the  conclusion  to  Don 
Quixote,  where  a  somewhat  tardy  compliment  is  paid 
to  this  very  work  of  Lope.  Both  poems  are  obvious 
imitations  of  Ariosto ;  and  if  that  of  De  Soto  has  bee« 
too  much  praised,  it  is,  at  least,  better  than  Lope's.  And 
yet,  in  "  The  Beauty  of  Angelica,"  the  author 
might  have  been  deemed  to  occupy  ground  *well  *  109 
suited  to  his  genius ;  for  the  boundless  latitude 
afforded  him  by  a  subject  filled  with  the  dreamy  adven- 
tures of  chivalry  Avas,  necessarily,  a  partial  release  from 
the  obligation  to  pursue  a  consistent  plan,  ^  while,  at 
the  same  time,  the  example  of  Ariosto,  as  well  as  that 
of  Luis  de  Soto,  may  be  supposed  to  have  launched 
him  fairl}^  forth  upon  the  open  sea  of  an  unrestrained 
fancy,  careless  of  shores  or  soundings. 

But  perhaps  this  very  freedom  was  a  principal  cause 
uf  his  failure  ;  for  his  story  is  to  the  last  degree  wild 


200  THE    IIERMOsrn.V    I)E    ANGELICA.  [Pkimod  II. 

and  extravagant,  and  is  connected  by  the  slightest 
possible  thread  with  the  graceful  fiction  of  Ariosto.^ 
A  king  of  Andalusia,  as  it  pretends,  leaves  his  king- 
dom by  testament  to  the  most  beautiful  man  or  woman 
that  can  be  found.'^^  All  the  world  throngs  to  wiu  the 
mighty  prize  ;  and  one  of  the  most  amusing  parts  of 
the  whole  poem  is  that  in  which  its  author  describes 
to  us  the  crowds  of  the  old  and  the  ugly  who,  under 
such  conditious,  still  thought  themselves  fit  competi- 
tors. But  as  early  as  the  fifth  canto,  the  two  lovers, 
Medoro  aud  Angelica,  who  had  been  left  in  India  by 
the  Italian  master,  have  already  won  the  throne,  and, 
for  the  sake  of  the  lady's  unrivalled  beauty,  are 
crowned  king  and  queen  at  Seville. 

Here,  of  course,  if  the  poem  had  a  regular  subject, 
it  would  end  ;  but  now  we  are  plunged  at  once  into  a 
series  of  wars  and  disasters,  arising  out  of  the  discon- 
tent of  unsuccessful  rivals,  which  threaten  to  have  no 
end.  Trials  of  all  kinds  follow.  Visions,  enchant- 
ments and  counter  enchantments,  episodes  quite  un- 
connected with  the  main  story,  and  broken  up  them- 
selves by  the  most  perverse  interruptions,  are  mingled 
toscether,  we  neither  know  whv  nor  how:  and  when 
at  last  the  happy  pair  are  settled  in  their  hardly  won 
kingdom,  we  are  as  much  wearied  bv  the  wild  waste 
of  fanc}'  in  which  Lope  has  indulged  himself,  as  we 
should  have  been  by  almost  any  degree  of  mo- 
*  170  notony  arising  from  a  want  of  inventive  *  power. 
The  best  parts  of  the  poem  are  those  that  con- 
tain descriptions  of  persons  and  scenery;*^  the  worst 
are    those    where    Lope    has    displayed    his    learning, 

^  Till-   point  wliiTf  it  lirauchos  off  imlci'd,  a  fair  opening  for  the  subject 

from  tlic  story  of   Arioslo   is   tlie  six-  of  Lope's  Angelica, 
teenth  stanza  of  the  thirtieth  canto  of  *'   La  Angelica,  Canto  IlL 

the  "(Jrlando  Knriosi*,"  where  there  is,  *'  Cantos  IV.  and  Vll. 


CiUF.  Xni.]  THE    DKA(;ONTEA.  201 

Avliicli  lie  lias  sometimes  done  by  filling  whole  stanzas 
with  a  iiiere  accumulation  of  proper  names.  The  ver- 
sification is  extraordinai'ily  Huent.'*^ 

As  The  Beauty  of  Angelica  was  w^ritten  in  the  ill- 
fated  Armada,  it  contains  occasional  intimations  of  the 
author's  national  and  religious  feelings,  such  as  w'ere 
naturally  suggested  by  his  situation.  But  in  the  same 
volume  he  at  one  time  published  a  poem  in  which 
these  feelings  are  much  more  fully  and  freely  ex- 
pressed; —  a  poem,  indeed,  which  is  devoted  to  noth- 
ing else.  It  is  called  '•  La  Dragontea,"  and  is  on  the 
subject  of  Sir  Francis  Drake's  last  expedition  and 
death.  Perhaps  no  other  instance  can  be  foimd  of  a 
grave  epic  devoted  to  the  persci.al  abuse  of  a  single 
individual;  and  to  account' for  the  present  one,  we 
must  remember  how  fjiiniliar  and  formidable  the  name 
of  Sir  Francis  Drake  had  long  been  in  Spain. 

He  had  begun  his  career  as  a  brilliant  pirate  in 
South  America  above  thirty  years  before ;  he  had 
alarmed  all  Spain  by  ravaging  its  coasts  and  occupying 
Cadiz,  in  a  sort  of  doubtful  warfare,  which  Lord  Bacon 
tells  us  the  free  sailor  used  to  call  "  singeing  the  king 
of  Spain's  beard  " ;  *^  and  he  had  risen  to  the  height  of 
his  o-lorv  as  second  in  command  of  the  o-reat  fleet 
which  had  discomfited  the  Armada,  one  of  whose 
largest  vessels  was  known  to  have  surrendered  to  the 
terror  of  his  name  alone.  In  Spain,  where  he  was  as 
much  hated  as  he  was  feared,  he  was  regarded  chiefly 
as  a  bold  and  successful  buccaneer,  whose  melancholy 

■*-  La    Hermosura   de    Angelica   was  acuuniulate   them    ai-c    to   he   found   in 

]>rinted  for  the,  first  time  in  1604,  says  0 bras,  Tom.  II.  ))p.  27,  55,  233,  236,  etc. 
the  editor  of  the  Obras,  in  Tom.   II.  '^'■^  "Considerations  touchiiio;  a  War 

But  Salva  gives  an  edition  in  1602.      It  witli  Spain,  inscribed  to  Prince  Cliarles," 

certainly  appeared  at  Barcelona  in  1605.  1624  ;  a  curious  sjjecimcm  of  the  ])olit- 

The  stanzas  where  projjer  names  occur  ical  discussions  of  the  time.    See  Bacon's 

so  often  as  to  prove  that  Lope  was  guilty  Works,  London,  1810,   8vo,   Vol.   IIL 

of  the   affectation   of  taking  pains   to  p.  ,517. 


202 


THE    I)RA(;OXTEA. 


[Pekiod  II. 


death  at  Panama,  in  l-jDG,  was  held  to  he  a  just  visita- 
tion of  the  Divine  vengeance  for  his  piracies;  —  a 
state  of  feeling  of  which  the  popular  literature 
*  1 71  *  of  the  country,  down  to  its  very  ballads, 
affords  frequent  proof *^ 
The  Dragontea,  however,  whose  ten  cantos  of  oc- 
tave verse  are  devoted  to  the  expression  of  this  na- 
tional hati-ed,  may  be  regarded  as  its  chief  monument. 
It  is  a  strange  poem.  It  begins  with  the  prayers  of 
Christianity,  in  the  form  of  a  beautiful  woman,  who 
presents  Spain,  Italy,  and  America  in  the  court  of 
Heaven,  and  prays  God  to  protect  them  all  against 
Avhat  Lope  calls  "  that  Protestant  Scotch  pirate."^^  It 
ends  with  reioicinofs  in  Panama  because  "  the  Dragon," 
as  he  is  called  through  the  whole  poem,  has  died, 
poisoned  by  his  own  people,  and  with  the  thanksgivings 
of  Christianity  that  her  prayers  have  been  heard,  and 
that  "the  scarlet  lady  of  Babylon  "  — meaning  Queen 
Elizabeth  —  had  been  at  last  defeated.  The  substance 
of  the  poem  is  such  as  may  beseem  such  an  opening 


**  Mariana,  Ilistoria,  ad  an.  1.596, 
calls  him  .simply  "  Francis  Drake,  an 
English  corsair"  ; — an<l  in  a  graceful 
little  anonymous  ballad,  imitated  from 
a  more  gi'acx'ful  one  by  Oongora,  w(^ 
have  again  a  true  exi)re.ssion  of  the 
popular  feeling.  The  ballad  in  ques- 
tion, 1)eginning  "  Herniano  Perico,"  is 
in  the  Romancero  General,  1602,  (f.  34,) 
and  contains  the  following  signiticant 
passage  :  — 

And  Bartolo,  my  hrotlicr, 

To  Enjriaii.l  forth  is  gone, 

AVIiuri!  the  Drake  ho  nle.^n.s  to  kill ;  — 

And  tlie  lAithorans  every  one, 

Kxronniiunicatc  from  Ooil, 

Their  ijueen  aiiionjf  the;  first, 

He  will  captiire and  liring  back, 

Like  heri'tirs  .•loeurst. 

.\iid  he  i)rouii-«!>i,  moreover, 

Among  ills  spoils  and  giiin.s, 

A  heretie  young  serving-boy 

To  give  me,  luiund  in  ehains  ; 

And  for  my  ladv  i^nimlmamma, 

Who.il'  yejirx  sunh  waiting  crave 

A  little  handy  l.ntheran, 

To  Im-  her  maiden  slave. 


Mi  hemiano  Bartolo 
Se  va  a  Ingalaterra, 
A  matjir  al  Draque, 

Y  i  prender  la  Ileyna, 

Y  a  los  Luteranas 
De  la  Uandonies.sa. 
Tiene  de  traerme 
A  mi  de  la  guerra 
Un  Luteranico 
Con  una  cadena, 

Y  una  Luteraiia 
A  seiioni  aguela. 

Romancero  General,  .Madrid,  ltXl2,  4to,  f.  35 

The  .same  ballad  occurs  in  the  "  Entre- 
nies  de  los  Romances,"  in  the  very  rare 
and  curious  third  volume,  entitled  Parte 
Tercera  de  las  Comedias  de  Lojie  de 
Vega  y  otros  Autores,  ec,  Barcelona, 
16i4,  which,  however,  contains  only 
tlnee  of  Eo|te's  Plays  out  of  its  twelve. 
I  found  it  in  the  Library  of  the  Vatican, 
where  there  are  more  old  Sjianish  books 
than  is  commonly  su])]>o.sed. 

*5  He  was  in  fact  of  l)evonshire.     See 
Fuller's  Worthies  and  Holy  State. 


(.'HAP.   XI II. J       TIJK    I'EKEGKLNO    EX    SU    rATKLV.  203 

and  such  a  coiicliisiun.  It  i.s  violent  and  coarse 
throughout.  But  although  it  appeals  constantly  to 
the  national  prejudices  that  prevailed  in  its  author's 
time  with  great  intensity,  it  was  not  received  with 
favor.  It  was  written  in  1597,  immediately  after  the 
occurrence  of  most  of  the  events  to  which  it  alludes ; 
but  was  not  puljlished  till  1G04,  and  has  been 
printed  since  *  only  in  the  collected  edition  of  *  172 
Lope's  miscellaneous  works,  in  1776.*'^ 

In  the  same  year,  however,  in  which  he  gave  the 
Dragontea  to  the  world,  he  published  a  prose  romance, 
"  The  Pilgrim  in  his  own  Country  "  ;  dedicating  it  to 
the  Marquis  of  Priego,  on  the  last  day  of  1603,  from 
the  city  of  Seville.  It  contains  the  story  of  two 
lovers,  who,  after  many  adventures  in  Spain  and  Portu- 
gal, are  carried  into  captivity  among  the  Moors,  and 
return  home  by  the  way  of  Italy,  as  pilgrims.  We 
first  find  them  at  Barcelona,  shipwrecked,  and  the 
principal  scenes  are  laid  there  and  in  Valencia  and 
Sarao'ossa  ;  —  the  whole  endino;  in  the  city  of  Toledo, 
where,  with  the  assent  of  their  friends,  they  are*  at 
last  married.*'  Several  episodes  are  ingeniously  inter 
woven  with  the  thread  of  the  principal  narrative,  and 
besides  many  poems  chiefly  written,  no  doubt,  for  other 
occasions,  several  religious  dramas  are  inserted,  which 
seem  actually'  to  have  been  performed  under  the  cir- 
cumstances described.*^ 

*6  There  is  a  curiou.s  poem  in   Ens-  ma.s   ignorado   de   sus  libros."     Oliras 

lish,    by   Charles    Fitzgeffrev,    on    the  Sueltas,  Tom.  XIV.  p.  xxxii. 

Life  and  Death  of  Sir  Francis  Drake,  *'  The  time  of  the  storv  is  1598-99, 

first  printed  in  1.^96,    Mhieh  is  worth  when  Philip  III.  was  married, 

comparing  with    the  Dragontea,   as  its  ^  At  the  end  of  the  whole,  it  is  said, 

opposite,  and  which  was  better  liked  in  that,  dnring  the  eight  nights  f.dlowing 

England  in  its  time  tlian  Lope's  poem  the  wedding,  eight  other  dramas  were 

was   m    Spain.     See   Wood's   Athena;,  acted,  whose  names  are  given  ;  two  of 

London,    1815,    4tQ,   Vol.    II.   p.   607.  which,  "  El  Persegnido,"  and  "El  Cni- 

Pacheco,  in  a  notice  of  Lope,  printcid  Ian  Agradecido,"  do  not  appear  among 

in  1609, — five  years  after  the  appear-  Lo])e's  printed    plays;  —  at   least,    not 

ance  of  the  Dragontea,  —  culls  it,  "  El  under  these  titles. 


204  TUE    JEKUSALEN   COXQUISTADA.  [Period  II. 

The  entire  romance  is  divided  into  five  books,  and 
is  carefully  constructed  and  finished.  Some  of  Lope's 
own  experiences  at  Valencia  and  elsewhere  evidently 
contributed  materials  for  it  ;  but  a  poetical  coloring 
is  thrown  over  the  whole,  and  except  in  some  of  the 
details  about  the  cit}',  and  descriptions  of  natural 
scenery,  we  rarely  feel  that  what  we  read  is  absolutely 
true.*'*'  The  story,  especially  when  regarded  from  the 
point  of  view  chosen  by  its  author,  is  interest- 
*lTo  ing;  and  it  is  not  only  one  of  the  *  earliest 
specimens  in  Spanish  literature  of  the  class  to 
which  it  belongs,  but  one  of  the  best.^*' 

Passing  over  some  of  his  minor  poems  and  his  "  New 
Art  of  Writing  Plays,"  for  noticing  both  of  wdiicli  more 
appropriate  occasions  will  occur  hereafter,  we  come  to 
another  of  Lope's  greater  efforts,  his  "  Jerusalem  Con- 
quered," which  appeared  in  1609,  and  Avas  twice  re- 
printed in  the  course  of  the  next  ten  years.  He  calls 
it  "a  tragic  epic,"  and  divides  it  into  twenty  books  of 
octave  rh^anes,  comprehending,  wlien  taken  together, 

*9  Amonw  the  passages  that  have  the  translated  Lope's  Arcadia,  his  Dorotea, 

strongest  aTr  of  reality  about  them  are  and  some  of  his  Novelas.     A  notice  of 

those^relatin'T  to   the  dramas,   said  to  Kichard  and  his  translations   may  be 

have  been  acted  in  different  places ;  and  found  in  the  "  Kritisehe  Bemerkungen 

those  containing  descriptions  of  Mon-  iilit-r  Ivastilische    uiid     Portugiesische 

sen-ate  and  of  the  environs  of  Valencia,  Eiteratur,  von  Alvaro  August  Liagno," 

in  the  first  and  second  books.     A  sort  (1829-30,   Svo,)  written  to  .-ncourage 

of  ghost-story,  in  the  fifth,  seems  also  the  ].ublication  by  Mayer,  a  bookseller 

to  have  be.-n  foun<led  on  fact.  i"   Aix    la  Chapelle,    of  the   ])rincipal 

so  The  first  edition  of  the  "  Peregi-ino  Si)anish   authors;— a   spirited   under- 

en  .su  Patria"  is  that  of  Seville,  1604,  taking,  which  was  continued  far  enough 

4to,  and  it  was  soon  reprinted  ;  but  the  to  carry  through  the  i)ress  Garcilasso  ; 

best  edition  is  that  iu  the  fifth  volume  Melo's  (hierra  de  Cataluna  ;  Guevara's 

of  the  Obras  Sueltas,   1776.     A  worth-  Diablo  Cojuelo  ;    Mendoza's  Lazanllo  ; 

less  abiidgment  of  it  in   English  ap-  Polo's  Diana  ;  Tome  de  Burguillos,  and 

peared  anonymously  in  London  in  1738,  most  of  the  works  of  t'ervantes.     Some 

12mo.       A  'German    trau.s1ation,    also  of  the  notices  by  Liagno,  in  these  tracts, 

much   abridged    and    leaving   out   the  are  curious,  but  in  general  they  are  of 

poetry  and  drama.s,  —  in  short,   omit-  little  worth.     His  "Pepertoire  del'His- 

ting  the  part  of  Hamlet, —was  pub-  toire  et  de  la  Litterature  Espagnole  et 

lished   at    Aachen,    (lf^24,    r2mo,    pp.  Portugaise,"   (15.-rlin,    [1820,]  8vo,)  is 

23.'),)   and   entitled    "  Der  Pilger,   etc.,  yet  worse.      He  seems  to  have  been  a 

iibe'rsetzt   von    C.    Kichard,"   a    person  disaiijioiiited  man,  and  to  have  carried 

who  had  served,   I  believe,  in  the  Pe-  the  unhappy  temper  of  his  life  into  his 

ninfiular  war  of  1808  -  14,  and  who  also  books. 


CiiAi'.  XllI.J        THE    JEEUSALEN    CONQUISTADA.  205 

above  twenty-two  tliousiind  verses.  The  atteiiii)t  was 
certainly  an  ambitious  one,  since  we  see,  on  its  very 
face,  that  it  is  nothing  less  than  to  rival  Tasso  on  the 
<»:rouncl  where  Tasso's  success  had  been  so  brilliant. 

As  might  have  been  foreseen.  Lope  failed.  His  very 
subject  is  unfortunate,  for  it  is  not  the  conquest  of 
Jerusalem  by  the  Christians,  but  the  failure  of  Caun- 
de  Lion  to  rescue  it  from  the  infidels  in  the  end  of  the 
twelfth  century,  —  a  theme  evidently  unfit  for  a  Chris- 
tian epic.  All  the  poet  could  do,  therefore,  was  to 
take  the  series  of  events  as  he  found  them  in  history, 
and,  adding  such  episodes  and  ornaments  as  his  own 
genius  could  furnish,  give  to  the  whole  as  much  as 
possible  of  epic  form,  dignity,  and  completeness.  But 
Lope  has  not  done  even  this.  He  has  made  merely  a 
long  narrative  poem,  of  which  Richard  is  the 
hero;  and  he  relies  for  success,  in  no  *  small  *  174 
degree,  on  the  introduction  of  a  sort  of  rival 
hero,  in  the  person  of  Alfonso  the  Eighth  of  Castile, 
wdio,  with  his  knights,  is  made,  after  the  fourth  book, 
to  occupy  a  space  in  the  foreground  of  the  action 
quite  disproportionate  and  absinxl,  since  it  is  certain 
that  Alfonso  was  never  in  Palestine  at  all.^^  What 
is  equally  inappropriate,  the  real  subject  of  the  poem 
is  ended  in  the  eighteenth  book,  by  the  return  home 
of  both  Richard  and  Alfonso  ;  the  nineteenth  being 
filled  with  the  Spanish  king's  subsequent  history,  and 
the  twentieth  with  the  imprisonment  of  Richard  and 
the  quiet  death  of  Saladin,  as  master  of  Jerusalem,  — 

^1  Lope  insists,  on  all  occasions,  upon  But   tlu'   whole   is   a   mere    fiction   of 

the  fact  of  Alfonso's  having  been  in  the  the  age  succeeding  that  of  Alfonso,  for 

Crusades.     For  instance,  in  "  La  Boba  using   which    Lope   is  justly   rebuked 

para  los  otros,"  (Com edias,  Tom.  XXL,  by    Navarrete,   in  his   acute   essay  on 

Madrid,  1635,  f.  60,)  he  says  :  —  the   part   the    Spaniards   took    in    the 

To  this  crusade  Crusades.       Memorias     de    la     Aciide- 

There  went    together   France    and    England's  mia   (U-   la   Hist.,    Tom.   V.,    1817,    4to, 


power.«i, 
And  our  own  Kins  Alfonso. 


p.  b/. 


'206  THE    JERUSALEX    COXQUISTADA.  [Pei;ioi)  II. 

a  conclusion  so  abrupt  and  unsatisfactory,  that  it  seems 
as  if  its  author  could  hardly  have  originalh^  foreseen  it. 
But  though,  with  the  exception  of  what  relates  to 
the  apocryphal  Spanish  adventurers,  the  series  of  his- 
torical events  in  that  brilliant  crusade  is  followed  down 
with  some  regard  to  the  truth  of  fact,  still  we  are 
so  much  confused  hy  the  visions  and  allegorical 
personages  mingled  in  the  narrative,  and  by  the  mani- 
fold episodes  and  love-adventures  which  interrupt  it, 
that  it  is  all  but  impossible  to  read  any  considerable 
portion  consecutively  and  wUh  attention.  Lope's  easy 
and  graceful  versification  is,  indeed,  to  be  found  here, 
as  it  is  in  neaily  all  his  poetry ;  but  even  on  the  holy 
ground  of  chivalry,  at  Cyprus,  Ptolemais,  and  Tyre,  his 
narrative  has  much  less  movement  and  life  than  we 
might  claim  from  its  subject,  and  almost  everj'where 
else  it  is  languid  and  heavy.  Of  plan,  proportions,  or 
a  skilful  adaptation  of  the  several  parts  so  as  to  form 
an  epic  whole,  there  is  no  thought ;  and  yet  Lope  inti- 
mates that  his  poem  was  written  with  care 
*  175  some  time  before  it  was  published,^- "^  and  he 
dedicates  it  to  his  king,  in  a  tone  indicating 
that  he  thought  it  ))v  no  means  unworthy  the  royal 
favor. 

5^  See  the  Picilogo.     The  whole  poem  from  that  of  other   works  wiitten  in 

is  in  Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  XIV.  and  XV.  my  youtli,  wlieii  the  jiassions  have  more 

He  always  liked  it.      Before  it  was  jmh-  power."     Sehaek,  Xaehtriige,  1854,  p. 

lished,  he  .says,  in  a  letter  to  the  Duke  33.      Note   that   the   Duke's   name   is 

of    Sessa,    dated    September   3,    1605,  sometimes  spelled  with  a  double  s  as  it 

when  he   thought   he   might   print   it  is  here,  and  sometimes  with  a  single 

very   soon:    "I  wrote   it   in   my  best  one, — Sesa. 
years,    and  with   a   different    puqx)se 


*CHArTKll    XIV.  *1V6 

LOPE    BE    VEGA.  COXTIXUEn. — HIS    KELATIOXS  WITH    THE    CIirRCH. HIS    PAS 

TORES    DE    BELEN.  —  HIS    RELIGIOUS    POEMS.  HIS    CONNECTION    WITH  THE 

FESTIVALS    AT    THE    BEATIFICATION    ANH    CANONIZATION    OF    SAN    ISIDRO.  — 

TOME    DE    BITRGUILLOS. LA    GATOMACHIA.  —  AN    ATTO    T)E    KK. TRIINFOS 

DIA'INOS. POEM     ON     MARY      QfEEN     OK     SCOTS. LAUREL     I>E     APOLO. 

DOROTEA. HIS    OLD    AGE    AND    DEATH. 

Just  at  the  time  the  Jerusalem  was  published,  Lope 
began  to  wear  the  livery  of  his  Church.  Indeed,  it  is 
on  the  title-page  of  this  very  poem  that  he,  for  the 
first  time,  announces  himself  as  a  "  Familir.r  of  the 
Holy  Inquisition."  Proofs  of  the  change  in  his  life 
are  soon  apparent  in  his  works.  In  1612,  he  published 
"  The  Shepherds  of  Bethlehem,"  a  long  pastoral  in 
prose  and  verse,  divided  into  five  books.  It  contains 
the  sacred  history,  according  to  the  more  popular  tra- 
ditions of  the  author's  Church,  from  the  birth  of  Mary, 
the  Saviour's  mother,  to  the  arrival  of  the  holy  family 
in  Egypt,  —  all  supposed  to  be  related  or  enacted  by 
shepherds  in  the  neighborhood  of  Bethlehem,  at  the 
time  the  events  occurred. 

Like  the  other  prose  pastorals  written  at  the  same 
period,  it  is  full  of  incongruities.  Some  of  the  poems, 
in  particular,  are  as  inappropriate  and  in  as  bad  taste 
as  can  well  be  conceived ;  and  why  three  or  four  poet- 
ical contests  for  prizes,  and  several  common  Spanish 
games,  are  introduced  at  all,  it  is  not  easy  to  imagine, 
since  they  are  permitted  by  the  conditions  of  no  possi- 
ble poetical  theory  for  such  fictions.  But  it  must  be 
confessed,  on  the  other  hand,  that  there  runs  through 
the  whole  an  air  of  amenity  and  gentleness  well  suited 


208  THE    I'ASTOKES    I)K    JJKLEN.  [Pkki.u.  If. 

to  its  subject  and  purpose.     .Several  stories  from 
*177     the    Old    Testament  are  gracefully  *  told,   and 

translations  from  the  Psalms  and  other  parts  of 
the  Jewish  Scriptures  are  bi'ought  in  with  a  happy 
effect.  Some  of  the  original  poetry,  too,  is  to  be  placed 
among  the  best  of  Lope's  minor  compositions  ;  —  such 
as  the  following  imaginative  little  song,  which  is  sup- 
posed to  have  been  sung  in  a  palm-grove,  by  the  Ma- 
donna, to  her  sleeping  child,  and  is  as  full  of  the  tender- 
est  feelings  of  Catholic  devotion  as  one  of  Murillo's 
pictures  on  the  same  subject :  — 

Holy  aiigfls  ami  lilest, 

Through  these  palms  as  ye  sweep 
Hold  tlu'ii-  hianches  at  rest. 

For  my  liabe  is  asleep. 

And  ye  IJethlehem  palm-trees, 

As  stormy  "^vinds  n;sli 
In  temi)est  and  fury, 

Your  angry  noise  hush  ;  — 
Move  gently,  move  gently, 

Restrain  your  wild  sweep  ; 
Hold  your  Inamlies  at  rest,  — 

My  babe  is  asleep. 

Jly  babe  all  divine. 

With  earth's  sorrows  oppressed. 
Seeks  in  slumber  an  instant 

His  grievings  to  rest ;  • 

He  slumliers,  —  he  slumbers,  — 

0,  hush,  then,  and  keep 
Your  branches  all  still,  — 

My  babe  is  asleep ! 

Cold  blasts  wheel  alrout  him,  — 

A  rigorous  stoi'm,  — 
And  ye  .see  how,  in  vain, 

I  would  shelti'r  his  form  ;  — 
Holy  angels  and  blest. 

As  above  me  ye  sweep. 
Hold  these  branches  at  rest,  — 

My  babe  is  asleep  I  ^ 

I  Pues  andais  en  laji  palmas,  I'almas  de  Bclen, 

Angeles  KanU>8,  Que  imieven  ayrados 

Que  se  duernie  mi  njno,  Coit  furiows  vientos, 

Tencd  loc  niuj0i<.  Que  sueuan  tanto, 


rii.w.  xiv.J 


MISCELLANIES. 


209 


*  The  whole  work  is  dedicated  witli  great  *  178 
tenderness,  in  a  tew  siin])le  wor^s,  to  Carlos, 
the  little  son  that  died  before  he  was  seven  years  old, 
and  of  whom  l^ope  always  speaks  so  lovingly.  But  it 
hi'eaks  olF  abruptly,  and  was  never  finished;  —  why, 
it  is  not  easy  to  tell,  lor  jt  was  well  received,  and  was 
|)rinted  four  times  in  as  many  years. 

In  1612,  the  year  of  the  publication  of  this  pas- 
toral, Lope  printed  a  few  religious  ballads  and  some 
"Thoughts  in  Prose,"  which  he  pretended  were  trans- 
lated from  the  Latin  of  Gabriel  Padecopeo,  an  imper- 
fect anagram  of  his  own  name  ;  and  in  1G14,  there 
appeared  a  volimie  containing,  first,  a  collection  of  his 
short  sacred  poems,  to  which  were  afterwards  added 
four  solemn  and  striking  poetical  Soliloquies,  composed 
Avhile  he  knelt  before  a  cross  on  the  day  he  was  re- 
ceived into  the  Society  of  Penitents  ;  then  two  con- 
templative discourses,  written  at  the  request  of  his 
brethren  of  the  same  society ;  and  finally,  a  short 
spiritual  Romancero,  or  ballad-book,  and  a"  Via  Crucis," 
or  meditations  on  the  passage  of  the  Saviour  from  the 
judgment-seat  of  Pilate  to  the  hill  of  Calvary.'-^ 

Many  of  these  poems  are  full  of  a  deep  and  solemn 
devotion  ;'^  others  are  strangely  coarse  and  free  ;*and  a 
few  are  merely  whimsical  and  trifling.^  Some  of  the 
more  religious  of  the  ballads  are  still  simg  about  the 


No  le  hagais  ruido, 
Corred  raaa  passo ; 
Que  se  duerme  jni  niiio, 
Tened  los  ramos. 

El  nino  divino, 

Que  esti  cansado 

De  ilorar  en  la  tierra : 

Por  su  descanso, 

Sosegar  quiere  un  poco 

Del  tierno  llanto ; 

Que  se  duerme  nii  nino, 

Tened  los  ramos. 

Rigurosos  hielos 

Le  estan  cercando, 
Ya  veis  que  no  tengo 
Con  que  guardarlo ; 

L.    II.  14 


Angeles  di vinos, 
Que  vais  volando, 
Que  se  duerme  mi  nino, 
Tened  los  ramos. 
Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  XVI.  p.  .3.32. 

2  Obras,  Tom.  XIIL,  etc. 

^  For  instance,  the  sonnet  l)eginning, 
"Yo  dormire  en  el  polvo."  Obras, 
Tom.   XIIL  p.  186. 

*  Such  as  "  Gertrudis  siendo  Dios  tan 
amoroso."     Obras,  Tom.  XIIL  p.  223. 

^  Some  of  tliem  are  very  flat ;  —  see 
the  sonnet,  "  Quando  en  tu  alcazar  de 
Sion."     Obras,  Tom.  XIIL  p.  225. 


210  THE    FIRST    FESTIVAL    OF    SA^'    ISIDliO.      [Pkkioi.  IL 

streets  of  Madrid  by  blind  begu-ars ;  —  a  testiniony 
to  the  devout  fe^ngs  which,  oeeasionally  at  least> 
glowed  in  their  authors  heart,  that  is  not  to  be  mis- 
taken. These  poems,  howevei'.  with  an  account  of  the 
niartvrdom  of  a  considerable  number  of  Christians  at 
Jajjan.  in  1614.  whic^  was  2)rinted  four  years 
*]T'J  latei-,"  were  all  the  miscellaneous  works  *  pub- 
lished by  Lope  between  1612  and  102(1  :  —  the 
rest  of  his  time  during  this  jxM'iod  having  ap])arently 
l)C('ii  lilled  with  his  l)i-iHiant  successes  in  the  drama. 
l)oth  secular  and   sacred. 

But  in  1()20  and  1622,  he  had  an  opportunity  to  ex- 
hibit himself  to  the  mass  of  the  people,  as  well  as  to 
the  coui-t.  at  Madrid,  in  a  chai'acter  which,  being  both 
reliuTOUs  and  dramatic,  was  admirablv  suited  to  his 
powers  and  pretensions.  It  was  the  double  occasion 
of  the  beatification  and  the  canonization  of  Saint 
Isidore,  in  whose  honor,  above  twenty  years  earlier. 
Lope  had  made  one  of  his  most  successful  efforts  for 
popnlarit}',  —  a  long  interval,  but  one  during  which 
the  claims  of  the  Saint  had  been  l)y  no  means  over- 
looked. On  the  contrary,  the  king,  from  the  time 
of  his  restoration  to  health,  had  l)een  constantly  so- 
liciting tlic  Inmors  of  the  Church  for  a  personage  to 
whose  miraculous  interposition  he  believed  himself 
to  owe  it.  At  last  they  were  granted,  and  the  19th  of 
May,  1620,  was  appointed  for  celebi-ating  the  beatifi- 
cation of  the  pious  "Ploughman  of  Madrid." 

Such  occasions  were  now  often  seized  in  the  princi- 
pal cities  of  Spain,  as  a  means  alike  of  exhibiting  the 
talents  of  their  poets,  and  amusing  and  interesting  the 
mullitudc;  —  the  Church  gladly  contril)Uting  its  au- 
th(jrif  \-  to  suljstitute,  as  far  as  ])ossible,  a  sort  of  ])oeti- 

'  'I'liiiiiifo  lie  la  I'Y-  en  los  Kcyiio.s  del  .Tiijion.     Olnas,  Toin.  X\'ll. 


Chap.  XI  V.J       THE    FlllhT    FESTIVAL    OF    8 AX    FSIDIIO. 


211 


ml  toiii'iiaincnt,  held  iiiKlcr  its  own  maiiageiiieiit,  lor 
the  chiviilroiis  tomiiaiiicnts  Avliicli  had  for  centuries 
exercisi'd  so  grcal  and  so  irreligious  an  iiilluence 
throughout  Europe.  At  any  rate,  these  literjirv  con- 
tests, in  which  honors  and  prizes  of  various  kinds  were 
oflered,  were  called  '^  Poetical  Joustings,"  and  early 
hecanie  favorite  entei'tainuients  with  the  mass  of  the 
people.  We  have  already  noticed  such  festivals,  as 
early  as  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century ;  and  besides 
the  prize  which,  as  we  have  seen,  Cervantes  gained  at 
Saragossa  in  May,  loDo,'  Lope  gained  one  at  Toledo, 
in  June,  IGOS;*^  and  in  September,  1G14,  he  was  the 
judge  at  a  poetical  festival  in  honor  of  the 
=**^  beatification  of  Saint  Theresa,  at  Madrid,  =*  180 
where  the  rich  tones  of  his  voice  and  his  grace- 
ful style  of  reading  were  much  admired.^ 

Tlie  occasion  of  the  beatification  of  the  Saint  who 
presided  over  the  fortunes  of  Madrid  was,  however, 
one  of  more  solemn  importance  than  either  of  these 
had  been.  iVll  classes  of  the  inhabitants  of  that  "  He- 
roic Town,"  as  it  is  still  called,  took  an  interest  in  it ; 


■^  See  anti'.  Vol.  I.  p.  :^>lt."),  ami  Vol. 
II.  p.  114. 

''  The  successful  poem,  a  jesting  bal- 
lad of  very  siuall  merit,  is  in  the  OLras 
Sueltas,  Tom.  XXI.  pp.  171-177. 

8  An  account  of  some  of  the  poetical 
Joustings  of  thi.s  period  is  to  be  found 
in  Navarrete,  "  Vida  de  Cervantes," 
S  162,  with  the  notes,  p.  48(5,  and  in 
the  Spanish  translation  of  tins  History, 
Tom.  in.  pp.  527-529.  I  have  seen 
numy  of  them  and  read  a  few.  They 
have  almost  no  value.  A  good  illustra- 
tion of  the  mode  in  which  they  were 
conducted  is  to  be  found  in  the  "Justa 
Poetica,"  in  honor  of  Our  Lady  of  the 
Pillar  at  Saragossa,  collected  by  Juan 
Bautista  Felices  de  Caoeres,  (Qarago(;a, 
lt)29,  4to,)  in  which  Joseph  de  Valdi- 
vielso  aTul  Vargas  Machuca  figured. 
Su(!h  joustings  became  so  freijuent  at 
last,  and  .so  pooi',  as  to  be  subjects  of 


ridicule.  In  the  "( 'aba Hero  Descortcs" 
of  Salas  Barbadillo,  (Madrid,  1621, 
12mo,  f.  99,  etc.,)  there  is  a  ccrtdmeii 
in  honor  of  the  recovery  of  a  lost  hat  ; 
—  merely  a  light  caricature.  In  an- 
other of  his  satirical  work.s,  (La  Esta- 
feta  dcd  Dios  Momo,  1627,)  which  is 
a  collection  of  letters  in  ridicule  of  ex- 
travagances and  extravagant  jieojile, 
Barbadillo  spealcs,  in  Epistola  XVII., 
of  a  shoemaker  who  set  up  to  have  a 
certdmen,  and  offered  prizes  for  it. 
Sometimes,  however,  they  were  veiy 
devout.  One  on  the  canonization  of 
San  Pedro  de  Alcantara  in  1670  is  emi- 
nently such,  consisting  mainly  of  six- 
teen sermons  appended  to  the  po(!tical 
honors  of  the  occasion.  It  was  prepared 
by  Antonio  de  Huerta  and  makes  four 
hundred  and  forty-five  pages,  under  the 
title  of  Triumfos  Glorio.sos,  ec.  There 
could  hardly  be  a  more  dull  book. 


212  THE    FIRST    FESTIVAL    OF    SAX    ISIDRO.        [rEr.iop  11. 

for  it  was  believed  to  concern  the  well-being  of  all.^" 
The  Church  of  Saint  Andrew,  in  which  reposed  the 
body  of  the  worth}^  Ploughman,  was  ornamented  with 
unwonted  splendor.  The  merchants  of  the  city  com- 
pletely encased  its  altars  with  plain,  but  pure  silver. 
The  o'oldsmiths  enshrined  the  form  of  the  Saint,  which 
five  centuries  had  not  wasted  away,  in  a  sarcopha- 
gus of  the  same  metal,  elaborately  wrought.  Other 
classes  brought  other  offerings  ;  all  marked  by  the  gor- 
geous wealth  that  then  flowed  through  the  privileged 
portions  of  Spanish  societ}-,  from  the  mines  of  Peru 
and  Mexico.  In  front  of  the  church  a  show}^  stage 
was  erected,  from  which  the  poems  sent  in  for  prizes 
were  read,  and  over  this  part  of  the  ceremonies  Lope 

presided. 
*  181  *  As  a  sort  of  prologue,  a  few  satirical  peti- 
tions were  produced,  which  were  intended  to 
excite  merriment,  and,  no  doubt,  were  successful ; 
after  Avhich  Lope  opened  the  literar}'  proceedings  of 
the  festival,  by  pronouncing  a  poetical  oration  of  above 
seven  hundred  lines  in  honor  of  San  Isidro.  This  was 
followed  by  reading  the  subjects  for  the  nine  prizes 
offered  by  the  nine  Muses,  together  with  the  rules 
according  to  which  the  honors  of  the  occasion  were  to 
be  adjudged  ;  and  then  came  the  poems  themselves. 
Among  the  competitors  Avere  many  of  the  principal 
men  of  letters  of  the  time  :  Zarate,  Guillen  de  Castro, 

1''  The   di'tails   of  tlie   festival,    with  Paihia,  five  tliousaml  ]i()eiiis  of  ditfereiit 

the  poems  offered  on  the  occasion,  were  kinds  were    offered  ;    wiiich,   after    tlio 

neatly  ])rinted  at  Madrid,  in  1620,  in  a  best  of  them  had  been  iuing  lound  the 

small   ([uarto,    If.    140,    and    fdl    about  church  and  the  cloisters  of  tlie  monks 

three    hundied    pa^^os   in    the   eleventh  who  originally  jirojiosed  tlie  prizes,  were 

volume  of  Lope's  Works.      The  number  distributed  to  other  monasteries.     The 

of  poetical  offerings  was  great,  but  much  custom  extended  to  America.     In  1585, 

short  of  what  similar   contests  some-  Balbuena  carried  away  a  prize  in  Mex- 

times  j)roduced.     Figueroa  says  in  his  ico   from    three    hundred   competitors. 

"Passagero,"   (Madrid,  1617,   12nK),   f.  See  his  Life,  prefixed  to  the  Academy's 

118,)  that,  at  a  justa  in  Madrid  a  short  edition  of  his  "Siglo  de  Oro,"  Madrid, 

time   Ix'fore,    to  honor  St.   Antonio  of  1821,  8vo. 


Chap.  XIV.  |    THE  SECOND  FEbi'lYAL  OF  SAN  ISIDKO.  213 

Jauregiii,  Es})inel,  Montalvan,  Pantaloon,  Silveira,  the 
young  Calderon,  and  Lope  liinisellj  with  the  son  who 
bore  his  name,  still  a  boy.  All  this,  or  nearly  all  of  it, 
was  grave,  and  beseeming  the  grave  occasion.  But  at 
the  end  of  the  list  of  those  who  entered  their  claims 
for  each  prize,  there  always  appeared  a  sort  of  masque, 
who,  under  the  assumed  name  of  Master  Burguillos, 
"seasoned  the  feast  in  the  most  savory  manner,"  it  is 
said,  wdth  his  amusing  verses,  caricaturing  the.  whole, 
like  the  gracioso  of  the  popular  theatre,  and  serving  as 
a  kind  of  interlude  after  each  division  of  the  more 
regular  drama. 

Lope  took  hardly  any  pains  to  conceal  that  this 
savory  part  of  the  festival  was  entirely  his  own ;  so 
surely  had  his  theatrical  instincts  indicated  to  him  the 
merry  relief  its  introduction  would  give  to  the  state- 
liness  and  solemnity  of  the  occasion.^^  All  the  various 
performances  were  read  by  him  wdtli  much  effect,  and 
at  the  end  he  gave  a  light  and  pleasant  account,  in  the 
old  popular  ballad  measure,  of  wdiatever  had  been 
done;  after  which  the  judges  pronounced  the  names 
of  the  successful  competitors.  Who  they  were,  we  are 
not  told ;  but  the  offerings  of  all  —  those  of  the  un- 
successful as  well  as  of  the  successful — w^ere  published 
by  him  without  delay. 

*  A  greater  jubilee  followed  two  years  after-    *  182 
wards,   when,  at  the   opening   of  the  reign  of 
Philip  the  Fourth,  the  negotiations  of  his  grateful  pred- 
ecessor were  crowned  with  a  success  he  did  not  live 

!'■  "But  let  the  reader  note  well,"  introduced  by  Lope  himself."     Obra.s, 

says  Lope,  "  that  the  verses  of  Master  Tom.    XI.    p.    401.     See  al.so   p.    598. 

Burguillos  must  be  supposititious  ;  for  Ko.selI(Bib.  deRivadeneyra,  XXXVIII., 

he  did  not  appear  at  the  contest ;  and  Prologo,  xvi,  note)  says  that  poems  at- 

all  he  wrote  is  in  jest,  and  made  the  tributed  to  Tome  de  Burguillos,  but  in 

festival  very  savory.     And   as  he  did  the  autogi'aph  of  Lojic,  are  in  possession 

not  appear  for  any  prize,  it  was  gener-  of  the  Marquis  de  Pidal. 
ally  believed  that  he  was  a  character 


214  THE  SECOND  FESTIVAL  OF  SAN  ISIDKO.     [Period  II. 

to  witness;  and  San  Isidro,  with  three  other  devont 
Spaniards,  was  a(hnitted  by  the  Head  of  the  Church  at 
Rome  to  the  full  o>lories  of  saintship,  by  a  formal 
canonization.  The  jieople  of  Madrid  took  little  note  of 
the  Papal  bull,  except  so  fiir  as  it  concerned  their  own 
particidar  saint  and  protector.  But  to  him  the  honors 
they  offered  Avere  abundant.^"  The  festival  they  insti- 
tuted for  the  occasion  lasted  nine  days.  Eight  pyr- 
amids, >al)Ove  seventy  feet  high,  were  arranged  in 
diflerent  parts  of  the  city,  and  nine  magniiicent  altars, 
a  castle,  a  rich  garden,  and  a  temporary  theatre.  All 
the  houses  of  the  better  sort  were  hung  with  gorgeous 
tapestry ;  religions  processions,  in  which  the  principal 
nobiHty  took  the  meanest  places,  swept  through  the 
streets ;  and  bull-fights,  alwaj's  the  most  popular  of 
Spanish  entertainments,  were  added,  in  which  above 
two  thousand  of  those  noble  animals  were  sacrificed  in 
amphitheatres  or  public  squares  open  freely  to  all. 

As  a  part  of  the  show,  a  great  literary  contest  or 
jousting  Avas  held  on  the  19th  of  May,  —  exactly 
two  years  after  that  held  at  the  beatification.  Again 
Lope  appeared  on  the  stage  in  front  of  the  same 
ChiuTh  of  Saint  Andrew,  and,  with  similar  ceremonies 
and  a  similar  admixture  of  the  somewhat  broad  farce 
of  Tome  de  Burguillos,  most  of  the  leading  poets  of 
the  time  joined  in  the  universal  homage.  Lope  car- 
ried away  the  {)iiiicipal  ])rizes.  Others  were  given  to 
Zarate,  Calderon,  Montahan.  and  Guillen  de  Castro. 
Two  plays  —  one  on  the  childhood  and  the  other  on 
the  youth  of  San  Isidro,  but  both  expressly  ordered 
from  Lope  by  the  city  —  were  acted  on  open,  movable 
stages,  before  the  king,  the  court,  and  the  multitude, 

^2  The  proceedings  and  poems  of  this      1622,  ft'.  156,  and  till  Tom.  XII.  of  tlie 
second   gieat   festival  were  printed  at      Obras  Sueltas. 
once   at  Madrid,  in  a  quarto  volume, 


Chap.  XIV]  TOE    GATOMACiJlA.  215 

TTiakiiig  tlieir  author  the  most  prornineut  figure  of  a 
festival  Avhich,  rightly  understood,  goes  far  to 
explain  the  spirit  of  the  times  and  of  *  the  *  183 
religion  on  which  it  all  depended.  An  account 
of  the  whole,  comprehending  the  poems  offered  on  the 
occasion,  and  his  own  two  plan's,  was  published  b}'' 
Lope  before  the  close  of  the  year. 

His  success  at  these  two  jubilees  was,  no  doubt,  very 
flattering  to  him.  It  had  been  of  the  most  public  kind  ; 
it  had  been  on  a  very  j^opular  subject;  and  it  had,  per- 
haps, brought  him  more  into  the  minds  and  thoughts 
of  the  great  mass  of  the  people,  and  into  the  active 
interests  of  the  time,  than  even  his  success  in  the  the- 
atre. The  caricatures  of  Tome  de  Burguillos,  in  par- 
ticular, though  often  rude,  seem  to  have  been  received 
with  extraordinary  favor.  Later,  therefore,  he  was  in- 
duced to  write  more  verses  in  the  same  style ;  and,  in 
1634,  he  published  a  volume,  consisting  almost  wholly 
of  humorous  and  burlesque  poems,  under  the  same 
disguise.  Most  of  the  pieces  it  contains  are  sonnets 
and  other  short  poems;  —  some  very  sharp  and  satir- 
ical, and  nearly  all  fluent  and  happy.  But  one  of 
them  is  of  considerable  length,  and  should  be  sepa- 
rately noticed. 

It  is  a  mock-heroic,  in  irregular  verse,  divided  into  six 
silvas  or  cantos,  and  is  called  "  La  Gatomachia,"  or  the 
Battle  of  the  Cats ;  being  a  contest  between  two  cats 
for  the  love  of  a  third.  Like  nearly  all  the  poems  of 
the  class  to  which  it  belongs,  from  the  "  Batrachomj'O- 
machia  "  downwards,  it  is  too  long.  It  contains  about 
twenty-five  hundred  lines,  in  various  measures.  But 
if  it  is  not  the  first  in  the  Spanish  language  in  the 
order  of  time,  it  is  the  first  in  the  order  of  merit.  The 
last  two  silvas,  in  particular,   are  written  with   great 


21G  VAIilOUS    MISCELLANIES.  [Peimud  IL 

lightness  and  spirit ;  sometimes  parodying  Ariosto  and 
the  epic  poets,  and  sometimes  the  old  balhids,  with  the 
gayest  success.  From  its  first  appearance,  therefore,  it 
has  been  a  favorite  in  Spain  ;  and  it  is  now,  pn)l)al)ly, 
more  read  tlian'any  other  of  its  author's  miscelhineous 
works.  An  edition  printed  in  1704  assumes,  rather 
than  attempts  to  prove,  that  Tome  de  Burguillos  was  a 
real  personage.  But  few  persons  have  ever  been  of 
this  opinion  ;  for  though,  when  it  first  appeared,  Lope 
prefixed  to  it  one  of  those  accounts  concerning 
*  184  its  pretended  author  that  deceive  *  nobody, 
yet  he  had,  as  early  as  the  first  festival  in  hon- 
or of  San  Isidro,  almost  directly  declared  Master  Bur- 
guillos. to  Ije  merely  a  disguise  for  himself  and  a  means 
of  adding  interest  to  the  occasion,  —  a  fact,  indeed, 
plainly  intimated  by  Quevedo  in  the  xipprobation  pre- 
fixed to  the  volume,  and  by  Coronel  in  the  verses 
which  immediately  follow.^'^ 

In  1G21,  just  in  the  interval  between  the  two  festi- 
vals, Lope  published  a  volume  containing  the  "  Filo- 
mena,"  a  poem,  in  the  first  canto  of  which  he  gives 
the  mythological  story  of  Tereus  and  the  Nightingale, 
and  in  the  second,  a  vindication  of  himself,  under  the 
allegory  of  the  Nightingale's  Defence  against  the  En- 
vious Thrush.  To  this  he  added,  in  the  same  volume, 
'•  La  Tapada,"  a  description,  in  octave  verse,  of  a  coun- 
try-seat of  the  Duke    of   Braganza  in  Portugal ;   the 

1^  The  edition  wliicli  clairn.s  a  sepa-  "These  verses  are  dashes  from  the  pen 

late  and  real  existence  for  Burguillos  is  of  the  Spanish  Phoenix  "  ;  hints  which 

tliat  found  in   the  S('ventcenth  volume  it   would    have   been    dishonorable    for 

of  the  "  Poesias  Castellan.'is,"  collected  Loik;    himself    to    publish,    unless    the 

l)y  Feniandez   and   others.      But,    be-  poems  were  really  his  own.     The  po- 

sides  the  paiisages  from    Lope  himself  etry  of  Burguillos  is  in  Tom.  XIX.  of 

cited    in    a    pr<:ceding    note,    Quevedo  the  Obras  Sudtas,  just  as  Loi)e  origi- 

■say.s,  in  an  Aprobacion  to  the  wry  vol-  nally  published  it  in  10.34.     Tliere  is  a 

ume    in   question,    that    "the    style   is  spirited  (jtMiiian  translation  of  the  Ga- 

fiueh  as  has  been  seen  oidy  in  the  writ-  toma(diia    in     Beituch's    Magazin    der 

jngs  of  Lope  de  Vega";   and  VovowA,  Span,     und    Port.     Literatur,    Des.sau, 

in  some  dech/ias  prelixcd   to   it,   adds,  1781,   8vo,   Tom.    I. 


Chai-.   XIV.]  VAIUOUfS    MISCELLANIES.  217 

"■  Andromeda,"  a  mythological  story  like  the  Filomena; 
''  The  Fortunes  of  Diana,"  the  first  prose  tale  he  ever 
printed  ;  several  poetical  e])istles  and  smaller  poems ; 
and  a  correspondence  on  the  subject  of  the  New  Po- 
etry, as  it  was  called,  in  which  he  boldly  attacked  the 
school  of  Gongora,  then  at  the  height  of  its  favor.^* 
The  Avhole  volume  added  nothing  to  its  author's  per- 
manent reputation ;  but  parts  of  it,  and  especially  pas- 
sages in  the  epistles  and  in  the  Filomena,  are  interest- 
ing from  the  circumstance  that  they  contain  allusions 
to  his  own  personal  history. 

*  Another  volume,  not  unlike  the  last,  fol-  *  185 
lowed  hi  1624.  It  contains  three  poems  in  the 
octave  stanza:  '•  Circe,' an  unfortunate  amplification  of 
the  well-known  story  found  in  the  Odyssey;  "The 
Morning  of  Saint  John,"  on  the  popular  celebration 
of  that  graceful  festival  in  the  time  of  Lope  ;  and  a 
fable  on  the  Origin  of  the  White  Rose.  To  these  he 
added  several  epistles  in  prose  and  verse,  and  three 
more  prose  tales,  which,  with  the  one  already  men- 
tioned, constitute  all  the  short  prose  fictions  he  ever 
published  in  a  separate  form.^^ 

The  best  part  of  this  volume  is,  no  doubt,  the  three 
stories.  Probably  Lope  was  induced  to  write  them  by 
the  success  of  those  of  Cervantes,  which  had  now 
been  published  eleven  years,  and  were  already  known 
throughout  Europe.     But  Lope's  talent  seems  not  to 

1*  The  poems  are  in  Tom.  II.  of  the  styh'   then    in    fashion,    to   please   the 

0bra.s  Sueltas.      The  discussion  aljout  popular  taste,   he  continued   to  disap- 

the   new   poetry   is   in  Tom.    IV.    pp.  ])rovc  it  to  the  last.     The  Novela  is  in 

459-482;   to  which  should  be  added  Obras,  Tom.   VIII.     There  is,   also,  a. 

some  trifles  in  the  same  vein,  scattered  sonnet  in   the  Dorotea  in  ridicule  of 

thronghhis  Works,  and  especially  a  son-  Cultismo,    beginning,    "  Pululando   de 

net   beginning,    "  Boscan,  tarde  llega-  culto,   Claudio   amigo,"   wliich  .should 

mos";  —  which,   as  it  was  printed  by  be  noticed. 

him    with    the    "Laurel    de    Apolo,"  ^*  The  three  ])oems  are  in  Tom.  III.  ; 

(1630,  f.  123,)  shows,  that,  though  he  the  epistles  in  Tom.   1.   pp.  279,  etc.  ; 

himself  sometimes  wrote  in  the  affected  and  the  three  tales  in  Tom.  VIII. 


218  LOPE    DE    YEGA    AX    INQUISITOR.  [PF.ruoD  II. 

liave  1)0011  more  adapted  to  this  form  of  composition 
than  that  of  the  author  of  Don  Quixote  was  to  the 
drama.  Of  this  he  seems  to  have  been  partially  aware 
himself;  for  he  says  of  the  first  tale,  that  it  was  written  to 
please  a  lad}*  in  a  department  of  letters  where  he  never 
tliought  to  have  adventured,  and  the  other  three  are 
addressed  to  the  same  person,  and  appear  to  have  been 
written  with  the  same  feelings.^^'  None  of  them  excited 
much  attention  at  the  time  when  the}'  appeared.  But, 
twenty  years  afterwards,  they  were  reprinted  with  four 
others,  torn,  apparently,  from  some  connected  series 
of  similar  stories,  and  certaiiih'  not  the  work  of  Lope. 
The  last  of  the  eight  is  the  best  of  the  collection, 
thoug-h  it  ends  awkwardlv,  with  an  intimation  that 
another  is  to  follow ;  and  all  are  thrust  together  into 
the  complete  edition  of  Lope's  miscellaneous  works, 
though  there  is  no  pretence  for  claiming  any  of  them 

to  he  his,  except  the  first  four.^" 
*  18G         *  In  the  year  preceding  the  appearance  of  the 

tales  we  find  him  in  a  new  character.  A  miser- 
able man,  a  Franciscan  monk,  from  Catalonia,  was  sus- 
pected of  heresy  ;  and  the  susj^icion  fell  on  him  the 
more  heavily  because  his  mother  was  of  the  Jewish 
faith.  Having  been,  in  consequence  of  this,  expelled 
successively  from  two  religious  houses  of  which  he  had 
been  a  member,  he  seems  to  have  become  disturbed 
in  his  mind,  and  at  last  grew  so  frantic,  that,  while 
mass  was   celebrating  in   open  church,  he  seized  the 

i«  Obras  Sucltas,  Tom.  VIII.  p.   2;  Saragossa,  (1648,)Barceloria,  {1650,)etc. 

also  Tom.   III.    Preface.     It  is  to  the  There  is  .some  confusion  about  a  part  of 

credit  of  Cerda  y  Rico,  that,  when  he  the   poems   ]iul)lishetl    originally   with 

]>ubli.slieil  these  tales  of  Lope  de  Vega,  the.se  talcs,    and  which  aj)pear  among 

he  .said  that  the  best  in  t\u'.  language  the  works  of  Fr.    JjOj)ez  de  Zarate,  AI- 

are  those  of  Cervantes,   and  that  Loi>e  cala,    lf)51,    4to.       (See    Lope,    Obras, 

-succeeds  in  proportion  as  he  approaches  Tom.  III.  p.  iii.)     But  .such  things  are 

them.     Tom.  VIII.  Prologo,  p.  vi.  not  very  rare  in  Spani.sh  literature,  and 

''  There  are  editio'is  of  the  eight  at  will  oc<'ur  again  in  relation  to  Zarate. 


Chap.  XIV.j        LOTE    DE    VEGA    AN    INQUlblTOli.  219 

consecrated  host  from  the  hands  of  the  officiating  priest 
and  violently  destroyed  it.  He  was  at  once  arrested 
and  given  up  to  the  Inquisition.  The  Inquisition,  find- 
ing him  obstinate,  declared  him  to  be  a  Lutheran  and 
a  Calvinist,  and,  adding  to  this  the  crime  of  his  Hebrew 
descent,  delivered  him  over  to  the  secular  arm  for 
punishment.  He  was,  almost  as  a  matter  of  course, 
ordered  to  be  burned  alive ;  and  in  January,  1623,  the 
sentence  was  literall}^  executed  outside  the  gate  of 
Alcala  at  Madrid.  The  excitement  was  great,  as  it 
always  was  on  such  occasions.  An  immense  concourse 
of  people  was  gathered  to  witness  the  edifying  spec- 
tacle ;  the  court  was  present ;  the  theatres  and  public 
shows  were  suspended  for  a  fortnight ;  and  we  are  told 
that  Lope  de  Vega,  who,  in  some  parts  of  his  "  Dragon- 
tea,"  shows  a  spirit  not  unworthy  of  such  an  office,  was 
one  of  those  who  presided  at  the  loathsome  sacrifice 
and  directed  its  ceremonies.^^ 

His  fanaticism,  however,  in  no  degree  diminished 
his  zeal  for  poetry.  In  1625,  he  published  his  "  Divine 
Triumphs,"  a  poem  in  five  cantos,  in  the  measure  and 
the  manner  of  Petrarch,  beginning  with  the  triumphs 
of  "  the  Divine  Pan,"  and  ending  with  those  of  Religion 
and  the  Cross.^^  It  was  a  failure,  and  the  more  obviously 
so,  because  its  very  title  placed  it  in  direct  contrast 
with  the  "Trionfi"  of  the  great  Italian  master.  It 
was  accompanied,  in  the  same  volume,  by  a  small 
collection  *  of  sacred  poetry^  which  was  increased  .  *  187 
in  later  editions  until  it  became  a  large  one. 
Some  of  it  is  truly  tender  and  solemn,  as,  for  instance, 

1^  The  account  is  found  in    a    MS.  death.     It  is  cited,  and  an  abstract  of 

history  of  Madrid,  by  Leon  Pinelo,  in  it  Ejiven,  in  Casiano  Pellicer,    "  Origen 

the    King's  Libraiy  ;  and  so  much  as  de  las  Comedias,"  (Madrid,  1804,  12mo,) 

relates  to  this  subject  I  possess,  as  well  Tom.  I.  pp.  104,  105. 

as  a  notice  of  Lope  himself,  given  in  ^^  Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  XIII. 
the   same   MS.    under  the   date  of  his 


220  THE    CORONA    TEAGICA.  [Period,  II. 

the  cancion  ou  the  death  of  his  son,"^  and  the  f^oiinet  on 
liis  own  death,  beginning,  ''  I  must  lie  down  and  sluni- 
l)er  in  the  dust"  ;  while  other  parts,  like  the  villancicos 
to  the  Holy  Sacrament,  are  written  with  iinseemh^ 
levity,  and  are  even  sometimes  coarse  and  sensual?^ 
All,  however,  are  specimens  of  w^iat  respectable  and 
cultivated  Spaniards  in  that  age  called  religion. 

A  similar  remark  may  be  made  in  relation  to  the 
"  Corona  Tragica,"  The  Tragic  Crown,  which  he  pub- 
lished in  1627,  on  the  history  and  fjite  of  the  unhappy 
Mary  of  Scotland,  who  had  perished  just  forty  3'ears 
before.^  It  is  intended  to  be  a  religious  epic,  and  fills 
five  books  of  octave  stanzas.  But  it  is,  in  fact,  merelj^ 
a  specimen  of  intolerant  controversy.  Mary  is  repre- 
sented as  a  pure  and  glorious  martyr  to  the  Catholic 
faith,  while  Elizabeth  is  alternately  called  a  Jezebel 
and  an  Athaliah,  wdiom  it  was  a  doubtful  merit  in 
Philip  the  Second  to  have  spared,  wdien,  as  king-con- 
sort of  England,  he  had  her  life  in  his  power.^  In 
other  respects  it  is  a  dull  poem ;  beginning  with  an 
account  of  Mary's  previous  history,  as  related  by  her- 
self to  her  women  in  prison,  and  ending  with  her  death. 
But  it  savors  throughout  of  its  author's  sympathy  with 
the  religious  spirit  of  his  age  and  country ;  —  a  sjjirit, 
it  should  be  remembered,  which  made  the  Inquisition 
what  it  was. 

The  Corona  Tragica  w^as,  however,  perhaps  on  this 
very  account,  thought  w^orthy  of  being  dedicated  to 
Pope  Urban  the  Eighth,  wdio  had  himself  written  an 

'^  A  la  Muerte  de  Carlos  Felix,  Obras,  Ovando,  the  Maltese  envoy,  and  pub- 
Tom.  XIII.  p.  365.  lished  at  the  end  of  the  "Laurel  de 

21  Set- particularly  the  two  beginning  Apolo,"  (Madrid,  1630,  4to,  f.  118,) 
on  pp.  413  and  423.  he  gives  an  account  of  this  poem,  and 

22  It  is  in  (Jbras  Sueltas,  Tom.  IV.         says  he  wrote  it  in  tlie  country,  where 
28  The  atrocious  passage  is  on  p.  5.       "  the  soul  in  solitude  labors  more  gently 

In  an  epistle,   which  he  addres-sed  to      and  easily  "  ! 


Chai".  xiv.]  the  laurel  de  apolo.  221 

epitaph  on  the  unfortunate  Mary  of  Scotland,  which 
Lope,  in  courtly  phrase,  declared  was  "  beatitying  lier 
in  prophecy."  The  flattery  was  well  received.  Urban 
sent  the  poet  in  i-eturn  a  complimentary  letter ; 
gave  him  a  degree  of  Doctor  in  *  Divinity,  and  *  188 
the  Cross  of  the  Order  of  Saint  John ;  and  ap- 
pointed him  to  the  honorary  j)laces  of  Fiscal  in  the 
Apostolic  Chamber,  and  Notary  of  the  Roman  Archives. 
The  measure  of  his  ecclesiastical  honors  was  now  full. 

In  1630,  he  published  "The  Laurel  of  Apollo,"  a 
poem  somewhat  like  '"^The  Journey  to  Parnassus" 
of  Cervantes,  but  longer,  more  elaborate,  and  still 
more  unsatisfactory.  It  describes  a  festival,  supposed 
to  have  been  held  by  the  God  of  Poetry,  on  Mount 
Helicon,  in  April,  1628,  and  records  the  honors  then 
bestowed  on  above  three  hundred  Spanish  poets  ;  —  a 
number  so  great,  that  the  whole  account  becomes 
monotonous  and  almost  valueless,  partly  from  the 
impossibility  of  drawing  with  distinctness  or  truth  so 
many  characters  of  little  prominence,  and  partly  from 
its  too  free  praise  of  nearly  all  of  them.  It  is  divided 
into  ten  silras,  and  contains  about  seven  thousand 
irregular  verses.^*  'At  the  end,  besides  a  few  minor 
and  miscellaneous  poems,  Lope  added  an  eclogue,  in 
seven  scenes,  which  had  been  previously  represented 
before  the  king  and  court  with  a  costly  magnificence 
in  the  theatre  and  a  splendor  in  its  decorations  that 
show,  at  least,  how  great  was  the  favor  he  enjoyed, 
when  he  was  indulged,  for  so  slight  an  offering,  with 
such  royal  luxuries.^^ 

2*  111  Volume  XXXVin.  (1856)  of  nrae  itself,  which  consists  of  a  selection 
the  Biblioteca  de  Autores  Espauoles,  is  from  the  Obras  Sueltas  of  Lope,  pub- 
a  list  of  all  the  authors  mentioned  by  lished  by  Cerda  y  Rico  in  twenty-one 
Lope  in  his  "Laurel  de  Apolo,"  with  volumes,  is  well  compiled  by  Don  Cay- 
bibliographical  notices  of  their  works  etano  Rosell. 
that  are  fre(juently  of  value.     The  vol-  ^^  It  is  not  easy  to  tell  why  these 


222  THE    DOROTEA.  [Peiuud  II. 

The  last  considerable  work  he  })u))lished  was  his 
"Dorotea,"  a  lon<j:  prose  romance  in  dialogue.'-''  It  was 
Avritten  in  liis  voutli.  and.  as  has  Ijeen  already  sug- 
gested, probably  contains  more  or  less  of  his  own 
youthful  adventures  and  feelings.  But  whether  this 
be  so  or  not,  it  was  a  favorite  with  him.  He  calls 
it  "  the  most  beloved  of  his  works,"  and  says  he  has 
revised  it  with  care  and  made  many  additions 
*  1S9  to  it  in  his  old  age.-'  *lt  was  first  printed 
in  l(Jo2.  A  moderate  amount  of  verse  is  scat- 
tered through  it,  and  there  is  a  freshness  and  a  reality 
in  many  passages  that  remind  us  constantly  of  its 
author's  life  before  he  served  as  a  soldier  in  the 
Armada.  The  hero,  Fernando,  is  a  poet,  like  Lope, 
who,  after  havino-  been  more  than  once  in  love  and 
married,  refuses  Dorotea,  the  object  of  his  first  attach- 
ment, and  becomes  religious.  There  is,  however,  little 
plan,  consistency,  or  final  purpose  in  most  of  the  mani- 
fold scenes  that  go  to  make  up  its  five  long  acts ;  and 
it  is  noAv  read  only  for  its  rich  and  easy  prose  style, 
for  the  glimpses  it  seems  to  give  of  the  author's  own 
life,  and  for  a  few  of  its  short  poems,  some  of  which 
were  probably  written  for  occasions  not  inilike  those  to 
which  they  are  here  ap])lied. 

The  last  work  he  printed  was  an  eclogue  in  honor 
of  a  Portuguese  lady;  and  the  last  things  he  wrote  — 
only  the  day  before  he  was  seized  witli  his  mortal  ill- 
ness—  were  a  short  poem  on  the  Dolik'n  Age,  remark- 
later  productions  of  Lope  are  put  in  in  the  work  ;  not  above  a  liundred  and 
the  first  volumi-  of  his  Miscellaneous  iift}',  but  very  good,  and  chiefly  taken 
Works,  (1776-1779,)  but  so  it  is.  Tliat  from  tlie  part  of  Gerarda,  who  is  an 
collection  was  made  by  Cerda  y  Rico  ;  imitation  of  Celcstina. 
a  man  of  learn inf;,  though  not  of  good  -''  "Dorotea,   the  posthumous  child 

taste  or  sound  judgment.  of  my  Muse,  tlie  most  beloved  of  my 

'^  It  fills  the  wlioli-  of  the  seventli  long-protracted  life,  still  asks  the  public 
volume  of  liis  Obras  Suiltas.  At  tlu;  liglit,"  etc.  Egloga  a  Claudio  ;  Obras, 
end  is  a  collection  of  the  prover])S.used      Tom.  IX.  p.  367. 


Chap.  XIV. j      ILLNESS  AND  DEATH  OF  LOPE  DE  VEGA.       223 

able  i'oY  its  vigor  and  liarinoiiy,  uiid  a  sonnet  on  the 
ileath  of  a  friend.'^*^  All  of  tlieni  are  found  in  a  collec- 
tion, consisting  chiefly  of  a  few  dramas,  published  by 
his  son-in-law,  Luis  de  Usategui,  two  years  after  Lope's 
death. 

But,  as  his  life  drew  to  a  close,  his  religious  feelings, 
riiingled  with  a  melancholy  fanaticism,  predominated 
more  and  more.  Much  of  his  poetry  composed  at  this 
time  expressed  them ;  and  at  last  they  rose  to  such  a 
height,  that  he  Avas  almost  constantl}^  in  a  state  of  ex- 
cited melancholy,  or,  as  it  was  then  beginning  to  be 
called,  of  liypochondria.^^  Early  in  the  month  of 
August,  he  felt  himself  extremely  weak,  and  suffered 
more  than  ever  from  that  sense  of  discourage- 
ment which  was  breaking  *  down  his  resources  *  190 
and  strength.  His  thoughts,  however,  were  so 
exclusively  occupied  with  his  spiritual  condition,  that, 
<iven  wdien  thus  reduced,  he  continued  to  fast,  and  on 
one  occasion  Avent  through  with  a  private  discipline  so 
■cruel,  that  the  walls  of  the  apartment  where  it  oc- 
curred were  afterwards  found  sprinkled  with  his  blood. 
From  this  he  never  recovered.  He  w^as  taken  ill  the 
«ame  night ;  and  after  fulfilling  the  offices  prescribed 
by  his  Church  w^ith  the  most  submissive  devotion,  — 

2^  These  three  poems  —  curious  as  his  dria,"  etc.,  is  the  description  Montalvan 

last  works  —  are  in   Tom.    X.  p.   193,  gives  of  his  disease.     The  account  of  his 

and  Tom.   IX.  pp.  2  and  10.     Of  the  last  days  follows  it.     Obras,  Tom.  XX. 

very  rare  iirst  edition  of  this,  the  last  pp.  37,  etc.  ;  and  Baena,  Hijos  de  IVIa- 

piiblication  of  Lope  made  by  himself,  drid,    Tom.    III.    pp.    360-363.      The 

I  have  a  cop\-.     It  is  entitled   ' '  Fills  same  account  of  In'pochondria  is  given 

Egloga  a  la  Uecima  Musa,   Dona  Ber-  in  the  last  Jornada  of  Calderon's  "Me- 

narda    Ferreira    de    la   Cerda,    Senora  dico  de  su  Hom-a."     Jacinta  there  ask.s, 

Portuguesa,   Frei  Lope  Felix  de  Vega  "Que  es  hipocondria  ? "  to  which  Co- 

Carpio,    del   abito   de    San  Juan,    Aho  qnin  replies  :  — 

1635."      It    is    poorly    printed    in    duo-  E?  una  enfemiedad  que  no  la  habia, 

decimo   and    makes   eleven   leaves,    be-  Habra  dos  anos,  ni  en  el  mundo  era. 

sides  the  title.     The  lady  to  whom  it  Hartzenbusch  places  tliis  play  in  1635, 

is  addressed  is  the  well-known  poetess  the  year  of  Lope's  death,   and  does  it 

iwticed  ]}os(,  Chap.  XXVIII.  on  apparently  good  grounds.     The  two 

^^   "A  continued  melantholy  passion,  accounts  about  hypochondria,  therefore, 

which  of  late  has  lieen  called  hypochou-  correspond  exactly. 


224       ILl.NE.S.S  AND  DEATH  OF  LOPE  DE  VEGA.        [Peiuod  IL 

mourning  that  he  had  ever  been  engaged  in  any  occu- 
pations but  such  as  were  exclusively  religious,  —  he 
died  on  the  27th  of  August,  1635,  nearly  seventy-three 
years  old. 

The  sensation  j^roduced  by  his  death  was  such  as  is 
rarely  witnessed,  even  in  the  case  of  those  upon  whom 
depends  the  Avelfare  of  nations.  Tlie  Duke  of  Sessa. 
who  was  his  especial  patron,  and  to  whom  he  left  his 
manuscripts,  provided  for  the  funeral  in  a  mauuer 
becoming  his  own  wealth  and  rank.*'  It  lasted  nine 
daj-s.  The  crowds  that  thronged  to  it  were  immense."^ 
Three  bishops  officiated,  and  the  first  nobles  of  the 
land  attended  as  mourners.  Eulogies  and  poems  fol- 
lowed, on  all  sides,  and  in  numbers  all  but  incredible. 
Those  written  in  Spain  make  one  considerable  volume, 
and  end  with  a  drama  in  which  his  apotheosis  wa.s 
brought  upon  the  public  stage.  Those  written  in  Italy 
are  hardly  less  numerous,  and  fill  another.^  But  more 
touching  than  any  of  them  was  the  prayer  of  that 
much-loved  daughter  who  had  been  shut  up  from  the 
world  fourteen  jears,  that  the  long  funeral  procession 
might  pass  by  her  convent,  and  permit  her  once 
*  191  *  more  to  look  on  the  fice  she  so  tenderly  ven- 
erated ;  and  more  solemn  than  any  was  the 
niournino"  of  the   multitude,  from   whose   dense   mass 

^'  See  Lope's  remarkable  Dedication  that    appeared    inniiediateh'   after    lii.s- 

of  his  "Comedias,"  Tom.  IX.,  1618,  to  death,  we  are  told  that  "el  eoueur.so 

the  Dufjiie  de  Ses.sa.     The  Mar(|uis  of  de  fjeiite  que  aciulio  a  su  casa  a  verle  y 

Pidal,  a  munificent  patron  of  Spanish  al  entierro  fue  el  mayor  <[ue  se  ha  visto." 

literature,  and  one  of  the  most  accom-  '"  See  01)ras  Sueltas,    Tom.    XIX.  - 

pli.shed  scholars  in  the  early  literature  XXI.,   in  which  they  are  republi-shed, 

of  his  country,  is  .said  to  possess  a  con-  — Spani.sh,  Latin,  French,  Italian,  and 

sidcrable  number  of  Lo])e's  letters  to  Portuguese.     The  Spanish,  which  were 

the  Duke  of  Sessa,  whom  he  addresses  brought   together   by  Montalvan,   and 

under  the   name  of  Lucindo.     I  hope  an;  preceded   by  his  "  Fama  Posturaa 

they  may  be  printed.  de  Lope  de  Veg*.  "  may  be  regarded  as 

^1  In  thcPi'eface  tothe  "Famaimmor-  a  sort  of  J uMa  poefica  in  honor  of  the 

tal  del  Fenix  de  Europa,"  ec,  by  .Juan  gi'eat  poet,  in  which  above  a  hundred 

de  la  Peiia,  (Madrid,  1()3.'>,  12mo,  ff.  16,)  and   fifty   of  his   contemporaries   bore 

one  (if  the  multitudinous  jiublications  their  part. 


•'.'iiAr. 


XIV.J     ILLNESS   AXI)  DEATH  OF  LOPE  BE  VEGA.       220 


audible  sobs  burst  Ibrth.  as  his  remains  slowly  cle- 
iscended  from  their  sight  into  the  house  apppointed 
for  all  livin":.*^ 


*5  Obras  Sucltas,  Tom.  XX.  p.  42. 
For  an  excellent  and  intfi-cstinj^  ilisnu.s- 
•sion  of  Lope'.s  miscellaneous  works,  and 
onc!  to  which  I  have  been  indebted  in 
wiiting  this  chapter,  see  London  Qnar- 
terly  Review,  No.  35,  1818.  It  is  by 
.Mr.  Southey. 

Lope's  will,  I  think,  has  never  been 
published,  though  I  have  seen  an  ab- 
stract of  it.  Having,  however,  ob- 
tained, through  the  kindness  of  the 
last  Lord  Holland,  a  copy  of  it,  which 
Navarrete  sent  to  his  father,  the  author 
•of  Lope's  Life,  saying  that  he  had  found 
it  in  "  El  Archive  de  Escrituras  de  Ma- 
drid," when  he  was  searching  for  the 
will  of  Cervantes,  I  give  it  here  entire, 
a.s  a  curious  and  important  document. 

"TESTAMEN'TO    de    lope   de   VEGA. 

' '  En  el  nombre  de  Dios  nuestro  Se- 
hor,  amen.  Sepan  los  que  vieren  esta 
escritura  de  testamento  y  ultima  volun- 
tad,  como  yo  Frey  Lope  Felix  de  Vega 
C'arpio,  Presbitero  de  la  sagrada  religion 
de  San  Juan,  estando  enfermo  en  la 
cania  de  enfermedad  que  Dios  nuestro 
Senor  fue  servido  de  me  dar,  y  en  mi 
niemoria,  juicio  y  entendimiento  natu- 
ral, creyendo  y  confesando,  como  ver- 
daderamente  creo  y  confieso,  el  misterio 
-de  la  Ssma.  Trinidad,  Padre,  Hijo  y 
Espiritu  Santo,  que  son  tres  personas  y 
un  solo  Dios  verdadero,  y  lo  denias  que 
cree  y  ensena  la  Santa  Madre  Igle.sia  Oa- 
tolica  Romana,  y  en  esta  fe  me  giielgo 
haber  vivido  y  protesto  vivir  y  morir  : 
y  con  esta  invocacion  divina  otorgo  mi 
testamento,  desapropiamiento  y  decla- 
racion  en  la  forma  siguiente. 

"  Lo  primero,  encomiendo  mi  alma  a 
Dios  nuestro  Senor  que  la  hizo  y  crio  a 
su  imagen  y  semejanza  y  la  redimio  por 
su  pi-eciosa  sangre,  al  qual  suplico  la 
perdone  y  lleve  a  su  santa  gloria,  para 
lo  qual  pongo  por  mi  intercesora  a  la 
Sacratisinia  Virgen  Maria,  concebida 
sin  pecado  original,  y  a  todos  los  Santos 
y  Santas  de  la  corte  del  cielo  ;  y  defunto 
mi  cuerpo  sea  restituido  a  la  tierra  de 
que  fue  formado. 

"  Difunto  mi  cuerpo,  sea  vestido  con 

las  insignias  de  la  dicha  religion  de  San 

Juan,  y  sea  depositado  en  la  iglesia  y 

lugar  que  ordenara  el  eximo.  sr.  Duque 

VOL.    II.  15 


de  Sessa  mi  senor  ;  y  paguese  los  de- 
re  chos. 

"El  dia  de  mi  entierroj  si  fuere  hora 
y  si  no  otro  siguiente,  se  diga  por  mi 
alma  misa  cantada  de  cuerpo  presente 
en  la  forma  que  se  acostumbra  con  los 
demas  religiosos  ;  y  en  quanto  al  acom- 
panamiento  de  mi  entiei-ro,  honras,  no- 
venario  y  demas  exeguias  y  misas  de 
alma  y  rezadas  que  por  mi  alma  se  han 
de  decir,  lo  dexo  al  parecer  de  mis  alba- 
ceas,  6  de  la  persona  <pie  legitimamente 
le  tocare  esta  dispo.sicion. 

"  Declaro  que,  antes  de  ser  sacerdote 
y  religioso,  fui  casado  segun  orden  de 
la  Santa  Madre  Iglesia  con  D*.  Juana 
de  Guardio,  hija  de  Antonio  de  Guardio 
y  D*.  Maria  de  Collantes,  su  muger, 
difuutos,  vecinos  que  fueron  desta  villa, 
J  la  dha.  mi  muger  traxo  por  dote  suyo 
a  mi  poder  viente  y  dos  mil  trescientos 
y  ochenta  y  dos  rs.  de  plata  doble,  e  yo 
la  hice  de  arras  quinientos  dncados,  de 
que  otorgue  escritura  ante  Juan  de 
Pina,  y  dellos  so}^  deudor  a  D».  Feli- 
ciana Felix  del  Carpio,  mi  hija  linica  y 
de  la  dicha  de  mi  muger,  a  quien  mando 
se  paguen  y  restituyaii  de  lo  mejor  de 
mi  hacienda  con  las  ganancias  que  le 
tocare. 

"Declaro  que  la  dicha  D*.  Feliciana, 
mi  hija,  esta  casada  con  Luis  de  Usate- 
gui,  vecino  de  esta  villa,  y  al  tiempo 
que  se  trato  el  dicho  casamiento  le 
ofreci  cinco  mil  ducados  de  dote,  com- 
prehendiendose  en  ellos  lo  que  a  la  dicha 
mi  hija  le  tocase  de  sus  abuelos  ma- 
ternos,  y  dellos  otorg(')  scriptura  ante  el 
dho.  Juan  de  Pina,  a  que  me  remito, 
y  respecto  de  haber  estado  yo  alcanzado 
no  he  pagado  ni  satisfecho  por  cuento 
de  la  dicha  dote  mrs.  ni  otra  cosa  algu- 
na,  aunque  he  cobrado  de  la  herencia 
del  otro  mi  suegro  algunas  cantidades, 
como  parecera  de  las  cartas  de  pago  que 
ho  dado  :  mando  se  les  paguen  los  dho. 
cinco  mil  ducados. 

"A  las  man  das  forzosas  si  algun  de- 
recho  tienen,  les  mando  quatro  rs. 

"  A  los  lugares  santos  de  Jerusalem 
mando  veinte  rs. 

' '  Para  ca.samiento  de  doncellas  guerfa- 
nas  un  real  =  y  para  ayuda  de  la  beati- 
ficacion  de  la  Beata  Maria  de  la  Cabeza 
otro  real. 


226 


THE  WILL  OF  LOPE  LE  VEGA. 


[PErauD  IL 


"Y  2'iira  cum])lir  y  jtagar  este  uii 
testanieiito  y  (U'claracion,  iionibro  por 
mis  alliat-eas  a  el  dho.  eximo.  sr. 
*  192  Duque  de  Sessa,  *  Dn.  Luis  Fer- 
nandez de  Cordoba,  y  Luis  de  Usa- 
tegui,  nai  yeriio,  y  a  qualquiera  de  los 
dos  in  solidum,  a  los  quales  con  esta 
faeultad  doy  jjoder  para  (jue  luego  que 
yo  fallezca  vendan  de  mis  bieiies  los 
necesarios,  y  cumplau  este  testameuto, 
y  les  dure  el  tiempo  necesario  aunque 
sea  pasado  el  ano  del  albaceazgo. 

"Declare  que  el  Rey  nuestro  senor 
(Dios  le  gue.)  usando  de  su  beuignidad 
y  lai'gueza,  ha  muchos  aiios  que  en  re- 
muneracion  de  el  muclio  afecto  y  volun- 
tad  con  que  le  he  servido,  me  ofrecio 
dar  un  oficio  para  la  persona  (^ue  casase 
con  la  dha.  mi  hija,  confonne  a  la  cali- 
dad  de  la  dha.  persona,  y  porque  con 
esta  esperanza  tuvo  efecto  el  dho.  matri- 
monio,  y  el  dho.  Luis  de  Usategui,  mi 
yemo,  es  hombre  principal  y  noble,  y 
esta  muy  alcanzado,  suplico  a  S.  M. 
con  toda'  hmuildad  y  al  eximo.  sr.  Coude 
Duque  en  atencion  de  lo  referido  honre 
al  dho.  mi  yerno,  haciendole  merced, 
como  lo  fio  de  su  grandeza. 

"Cobrese  todo  lo  que  paveciere  me 
deben,  y  paguese  lo  que  legitimameute 
pareciere  que  j^o  debo. 

"Y  cumplido,  en  el  remanente  de 
todos  mis  bienes,  derechos  y  acciones, 
nombro  jior  mi  heredera  uni\'ersal  a  la 
dha.  D".  Feliciana  Felix  del  I'arpio,  mi 
hija  linica  ;  y  en  quauto  li  los  que  puedeu 


tocar  i'l  !a  dha.  sagrada  religion  de  San 
Juan  tamhien  cumpliendo  con  los  e.sta- 
tutos  dclla  nombro  a  ia  dha.  sagrada 
religion  para  ipie  cada  uno  Ueve  lo  que 
le  perteueciere. 

"Kevoco  y  doy  por  ningunos  y  de 
ningun  efecto  todos  y  qualesquier  testa- 
mentos,  cobdicilos,  desapropiamientos, 
mandas,  legados  y  ])oderes  para  te.star 
(jue  antes  de  este  haya  fecho  y  otorgado 
por  escrito,  de  palabra,  6  en  otra  qual- 
(^uier  manera  que  no  valgaran,  ne  ha- 
gan  fe,  en  juicio  ni  fuera  del,  salvo  este 
([ue  es  mi  tcstamento,  declaracion  y 
desapropiamiento,  en  (pial  quiere  y 
mauda  se  guarde  y  cumpla  por  tal,  6 
como  mejor  haya  lugar  de  derecho.  Y 
lo  otorgo  ausi  ante  el  presente  escribaua 
del  numero  y  testigos  de  yuso  escritos 
en  la  villa  de  Madrid  a  veinte  y  seis 
dias  del  mes  de  Agosto  ano  de  mil  y 
seis  cieutos  y  treinta  y  cinco  ;  e  yo  el 
dho.  escribano  doy  fe  conozco  al  dho. 
senor  otorgante,  el  qual  parecio  estaba 
en  su  juicio  y  eutendimieuto  natural,  y 
lo  firmo  :  testigos  el  Dr.  Felipe  de  Yer- 
gpora  medico,  }•  Juan  de  Prado,  platero 
de  oro,  y  el  licenciado,  Josef  Ortiz  de 
Yillena,  presbitero,  y  D.  Juan  de  Solis 
y  Diego  de  Logrono,  residentes  en  esta 
corte,  y  tambien  lo  firmaron  tres  de  los 
testigos  =  F.  Lope  PYdix  de  Vega  Car- 
pio  =  El  Dr.  Felipe  de  Yergara  Testigo. 
=  D.  Juan  de  Solis  =  El  licdo.  Josef 
Ortiz  de  Yillena  =  Ante  mi :  Francisco 
de  Morales. 


*  CHAPTER    XV.  *193 

LOPE    DE    VEGA,  CONTINUED. CIIAKACTER    OF    HIS    MISCELLANEOUS   WORKS. — 

HIS     DRAMAS. IIIS     LIFE    AT    VALENCIA. HIS     MORAL    PLAYS. HIS    SUC- 
CESS   AT    MADRID. VAST    NUMBER    OF    HIS    DRA3IAS. THEIR    FOUNDATION 

AND     THEIR    VARIOUS     FORMS. HIS     COMEDIAS     DE     CAPA    Y    ESPADA,    AND 

THEIR    CHARACTERISTICS. 

The  works  of  Lope  de  Vega  that  we  have  consid- 
ered, while  tracing  his  long  and  brilliant  career,  are 
far  from  being  sufficient  to  explain  the  degree  of  pop- 
ular admiration  tliat,  almost  from  the  first,  followed 
him.  They  show,  indeed,  much  original  talent,  a  still 
greater  power  of  invention,  and  a  wonderful  facility  of 
versification.  But  they  are  rarely  imbued  with  the 
deep  and  earnest  spirit  of  a  genuine  poetry  ;  they  gen- 
erally have  an  air  of  looseness  and  want  of  finish ;  and 
most  of  them  are  without  that  national  physiognomy 
and  character,  in  Avhich,  after  all,  resides  so  much  of 
the  effective  power  of  genius  over  any  people. 

The  truth  is,  that  Lope,  in  what  have  been  called 
his  miscellaneous  works,  was  seldom  in  the  path  that 
leads  to  final  success.  He  was  turned  aside  by  a  spirit 
which,  if  not  that  of  the  whole  people,  was  the  spirit 
of  the  court  and  the  higher  classes  of  Castilian  society. 
Boscan  and  Garcilasso,  who  preceded  him  by  only  half 
a  century,  had  made  themselves  famous  by  giving  cur- 
rency to  the  lighter  forms  of  Italian  verse,  especially 
those  of  the  sonnet  and  the  canzone ;  and  Lope,  who 
found  these  fortunate  poets  the  idols  of  the  period, 
when  his  own  character  was  forming,  thought  that  to 


228  THE    WORKS    of    lope    DE    VEGA.  [Peuiud  II. 

follow  their  Inilliaiit  course  would  open  to  him  the 
best  chances  for  success.  His  aspirations,  however, 
stretched  verv  far  Ijcyond  theirs.  He  felt  other  and 
higher  powers  within  him,  and  entered  boldly  into  ri- 

valship,  not  only  with  Sannazaro  and  Bembo,  as 
*  194    the}-  had  done,  but  with  *  Ariosto,  Tasso,  and 

Petrarch.  Eleven  of  his  longer  poems,  epic, 
narrative,  and  descriptive,  are  in  the  statel}'  ottava  rima 
of  his  great  masters ;  besides  which  he  has  left  us  two 
long  pastorals  in  the  manner  of  the  "  Arcadia,"  many 
adventurous  attempts  in  the  te)\i((  riDta,  and  nuni])erless 
specimens  of  all  the  varieties  of  Italian  lyrics,  includ- 
ing, among  the  rest,  nearly  seven  hundred  sonnets. 

But  in  all  this  there  is  little  that  is  truly  national, — 
little  that  is  marked  with  the  old  Castilian  spirit;  and 
if  this  were  all  he  had  done,  his  fame  would  by  no 
means  stand  where  we  now  find  it.  His  prose  pasto- 
rals and  his  romances  are,  indeed,  better  than  his 
epics ;  and  his  didactic  poetry,  his  epistles,  and  his 
elegies  are  occasionally  excellent ;  but  it  is  only  when 
he  touches  fairly  and  fully  upon  the  soil  of  his  country, 
—  it  is  only  in  his  fjlosas,  his  letriUas,  his  ballads,  and 
his  light  songs  and  roundelays,  —  that  he  has  the 
richness  and  grace  Avhich  should  always  have  accompa- 
nied him.  We  feel  at  once,  therefore,  whenever  we 
meet  him  in  these  paths,  that  he  is  on  ground  he 
should  never  have  deserted,  because  it  is  ground  on 
which,  with  his  extraordinary  gifts,  he  could  easily 
have  erected  permanent  monuments  to  his  own  ftiine. 
But  he  himself  determined  otherwise.  Not  that  he 
entirely  approved  the  innovations  of  Boscan  and  Gar- 
cilasso ;  for  he  tells  us  distinctly,  in  his  "  Philomena," 
that  their  imitations  of  the  Italian  had  unhappiW  sup- 
planted the  grace  and  the  glory  that  belonged  pecu- 


CiiAr.  XV.J  LOI'e's    EAllhlEST    DllAMAS.  229 

liaily  to  the  old  Spanish  o-euius.^  The  theories  and 
fashions  of  his  time,  therefore,  misled,  though  they  did 
not  delude,  a  spirit  that  should  have  been  above 
them;  and  the  result  is,  tluit  little  of  ])oetry  such  as 
marks  the  old  Castilian  genius  is  to  be  found  in  tlie 
s:reat  mass  of  his  works  we  have  thus  fjir  been  called 
on  to  examine.  In  order  to  account  for  his  permanent 
success,  as  well  as  marvellous  popularity,  we  must, 
then,  turn  to  another  and  wholly  distinct  department, 
—  that  of  the  drama,  —  in  which  he  gave  himself  up 
to  tlie  leading  of  the  national  spirit  as  com- 
pletely as  if  *  he  had  not  elsewhere  seemed  *  195 
sedulousl}-  to  avoid  it ;  and  thus  obtained  a 
kind  and  degree  of  fame  he  could  never  otherwise 
have  reached. 

It  is  not  possible  to  determine  the  year  when  Lope 
first  began  to  write  for  the  public  stage  ;  but  when- 
ever it  was,  he  found  the  theatre  in  a  rude  and 
humble  condition.  That  he  was  very  early  drawn 
to  this  form  of  composition,  though  not,  perhaps,  for 
the  purposes  of  representation,  we  know  on  his  own 
authorit}^;  for,  in  his  pleasant  didactic  poem  on  the 
New  Art  of  Making  Plays,  which  he  published  in  1600, 
but  read  several  years  earlier  to  a  society  of  dikttanii 
in  Madrid,  he  says  expressly  :  — 

The  Captain  Vinu'.s,  a  famous  wit, 
Cast  dramas  in  three  acts,  by  happy  hit  ; 
For,  till  his  time,  upon  all  fours  they  crept, 
Like  helpless  babes  that  never  yet  had  stepped. 
Such  plays  I  wrote,  eleven  and  twelve  years  old  : 
Four  acts  —  each  measured  to  a  sheet's  just  fold  — 
Filled  out  four  sheets  ;  while  still,  between, 
Three  entrcvieses  short  fdled  up  the  scene.  ^ 

1  Philomena,  Segunda  Parte,  Obras  Andaba  en  quatro,  como  pies  de  nlno ; 
{J  1,  rti  TT  °  i  ro  Que  cran  entonces  ninas  las  Oomcdias : 
■SUeitaS,    lom.   ll.  p.   too.  Y  io  las  escribi,  de  once  y  dooc  anos, 

2  El  capitan  Virues,  insignc  ingenio,  De  4  quatro  actos  y  de  a  quatro  pliegOB, 
Puso  en  tres  actos  la  Coinedia,  que  Antes  Porque  cada  acto  un  pliego  coatenia : 


2o0  THEATRE   AT   VALENCIA.  [Period  II. 

This  was  as  early  as  lo74.  A  few  years  later, 
or  aJjout  1580,  when  the  poet  was  eighteen  years  old, 
he  attracted  the  notice  of  Iiis  early  patron,  Manrique, 
the  Bishop  of  Avila,  l)y  a  j^astoral.  His  studies  at 
Alcala,  followed ;  then  his  service  under  the  vouno- 
Duke  of  Alva,  his  marriage,  and  his  exile  of  several 
years;  for  all  which  we  must  find  room  hefore  1588, 
when  we  know  he  served  in  the  Armada.  In  1590, 
however,  if  uot  a  year  earlier,  he  had  returned  to 
Madrid ;  and  it  does  not  seem  unreasonalde  to  assume 
that  soon  afterwards  he  hegan  to  be  known  in  the 
capital  as  a  dramatic  writer,  being  then  twentj'-eight 
years  old. 

But.  it  was  during  the  period  of  his  exile  that 
he   seems   to   have  really   begun  his  puldic    dramatic 

career,  and  prepared  himself,  in  some  measure, 
*  19G    for  his  subsequent  more   *  general   popularity. 

A  part  of  this  interval  was  passed  in  Valencia  ; 
and  in  Valencia  a  theatre  had  been  known  for  a  long 
time."^  x\s  early  as  1526,  the  hospital  there  received 
an  income  from  it.  by  a  compromise  similar  to  that  in 
virtue  of  which  the  hospitals  of  Madrid  long  after- 
wards laid  the  theatre  under  contribution  ibr  their 
support.*  The  Captain  Virues.  avIio  was  a  friend  of 
Lope  de  Vega,  and  is  commemorated  by  hini  more  than 

Y  era  que  entonces  en  las  tres  distancia.s  mentioned  as  hiU"ing  lieen  acted  in  the 

.'k.  hacian  tres  iK,-.iueiios  entremeses  ^.^^^  ,.jj.^.  j,^  j^j^,  1413,  and  1415  were 

Obra-s  Sueltas,  Tom.  IV.  p.  412.  ^j-  ^^^^    ^^^^^   ^^^^       ^^   ^^^.  ^^^^^    ^^^^. 

There  are  autograph  i)lay.s  of  Lope  .^^eeni  to  ha\e  belonged,  like  those  we 

in    existence,    dated    1593    and    1594.  ],ave  noticed  {mife,  Vol.  I.  j).  231)  bv 

Schack's  liej-triige,  p.   45.  the  Constable  Alvaro  de  Luna,  to  court- 

8  Dramatic  entertainments  of  some  ly   festivities.      Aribau,    Biblioteca   de 

kind  are  spoken  of  at  Valeu.'ia  in  the  Autores  p:spafioles,   .Madrid,  1846,  8vo. 

f'Airt.-enth  century.     Li   1.394,   we  are  Tom.  II.  p.  178,  note  ;  ami  an  excellent 

told,  there  was  rej.resented  at  the  jjal-  article  on  the  early  Spanish  theatre,  bv 

ace  a  tragedy,  entitled  "  L  horn  ena-  p.  ^Volf,  in  BliitteV  fiir  literarische  Uu- 

morat  e  la  fembra  .satisfeta,"  by  Mos.sen  terhaltung,  1S48,  p.  1287,  note. 

Domingo  Ma.sjwns,  a  counsellor  of  .John  4  JovelTanos,    Diversiones    Publica.s, 

L     This  wa-s  undoubtedly  a  Troubadour  Madrid,   1812,  8vo,  p.  57. 
perfonnance.     Perhaps  the  EiUramesos 


cu.vi'.  XV.]  LorE's  j:aklie!st  dramas.  231 

once,  wrote  for  tliis  theatre,  as  did  Tiinoneda,  the 
editor  of  Lope  de  Kueda ;  the  works  of  both  the  kist 
being  printed  in  Valencia  about  1570.  These  Valen- 
cian  dramas,  however,  except  in  the  case  of  Lope 
de  Rneda,  were  of  moderate  amount  and  value;  nor 
was  what  was  done  at  Seville  by  Cueva  and  his  follow- 
ers, about  1580,  or  at  Madrid  by  Cervantes,  a  little 
later,  of  more  real  importance,  regarded  as  the  foun- 
datious  for  a  national  theatre. 

Indeed,  if  Ave  look  over  all  that  can  be  claimed  for 
the  Spanish  drama  from  the  time  of  the  eclogues  of 
Juan  de  la  Enzina,  in  1492,  to  the  appearance  of  Lope 
de  Rueda,  about  1544,  and  then,  again,  from  his  time 
to  that  of  Lope  de  Vega,  we  shall  find,  not  only  that 
the  number  of  dramas  was  small,  but  that  they  had 
been  written  in  forms  so  different  and  so  often  opposed 
to  each  other  as  to  have  little  consistency  or  authority, 
and  to  offer  no  sufficient  indication  of  the  channel 
in  which  that  portion  of  the  literature  of  the  country 
was  at  last  destined  to  flow.  We  may  even  say,  that, 
except  Lope  de  Rueda,  no  author  for  the  theatre  had 
yet  enjoyed  any  considerable  popularity ;  and  he  hav- 
ing now  been  dead  more  than  twenty  years,  Lope  de 
Vega  must  be  admitted  to  have  had  a  fair  and  free 
field  open  before  him. 

Unfortunately,  we  have  few  of  his  earlier 
efforts.  He  *  seems,  however,  to  have  begun  *  11)7 
upon  the  old  foundations  of  the  eclogues  and 
moralities,  whose  religious  air  and  tone  commended 
them  to  that  ecclesiastical  toleration  without  which 
little  could  thrive  in  Spain,^  An  eclogue,  which  is 
announced   as   having    been   represented,  and    which 

^  In   one  his  eailior  efforts  he  says,       lielji  tlicin  little."     But  of  this  we  shall 
(Obvas,    Tom.    V.    p.    340,)    "The  law.s      .see  more  hert^after. 


232  lope's    earliest    DRAJLIS.  [Period  IF. 

seems  really  to  be  armnged  for  exhibition,  is  found  in 
the  third  book  of  the  ••  Arcadia,"  the  earliest  of  Lope's 
pii})lislied  works,  and  one  that  was  written  before  his 
exile/'  Several  similar  attempts  occur  elsewhere,  — 
so  rude  and  pious,  that  it  seems  almost  as  if  they 
miofht  have  belonged  to  the  ao-e  of  Juan  de  la  Enzina 
and  Gil  Vicente ;  and  others  of  the  same  character 
are  scattered  through  other  parts  of  his  multitudi- 
nous works.' 

Of  his  more  regular  plays,  the  two  oldest,  that  were 
subsequently  included  in  his  printed  collection,  are  not 
without  similar  indications  of  their  origin.  Both  are 
pastorals.  The  first  is  called  ''  The  True  Lover,"  and 
was  written  when  Lope  was  fourteen  years  old,  though 
it  may  have  been  altered  and  improved  before  he  pub- 
lished it,  when  he  was  fifty-eight.  It  is  the  story  of  a 
jihepherd  who  refuses  to  marry  a  shepherdess,  though 
she  had  put  him  in  peril  of  his  life  by  accusing  him  of 
having  murdered  her  husband,  Avho,  as  she  Avas  quite 
aware,  had  died  a  natural  death,  but  whose  supposed 
murderer  could  be  rescued  from  his  doom  only  at  her 
requisition,  as  next  of  kin  to  the  pretended  culprit;  — 
a  process  l)y  which  she  hoped  to  ol)tain  all  power  over 
his  s])irit.  ;ind  compel  him  to  marry  her,  as  Ximena 
married  the  Cid,  by  royal  authority.  Lope  admits  it 
to  be  a  rude  performance  ;  but  it  is  marked  ]jy  the 
sweetness  of  versification  which  seems  to  have  belonged 
to  him  at  every  period  of  his  career.^ 

*  It  is  j)roliiil)k',   from  internal  cvi-  tore.s  de  Belen,"  Book  HI.,  and  else- 

■•lence,    that   this    eclogue,    and    .some  where. 

others  in  the  same  romance,  were  acted  *  "  El  Verdadero  Amante  "  is  in  the 
before  the  Duke  Antonio  de  Alva.  At  Fourteenth  Part  of  the  Comedias,  jirint- 
any  rate,  we  know  similar  representa-  ed  at  Madrid,  1620,  and  is  dedicated  to 
tions  were  common  in  the  age  of  Cer-  his  son  Lope,  who  died  the  next  year, 
vantes  and  Lope,  as  well  as  before  and  only  iifteen  years  old  ; — -the  father  .say- 
after  it.  in<^  in  the  Dedication,    "This  play  was 

^  Such  dramas  aie  found  in  the  "  Pas-  written  when  1  was  of  about  vour  age." 


CiiAr.  XV.]  LOrE's    EAKLIEttT    DRAMAS.  233 

*  The  other  of  his  early  performances  above  *  198 
alluded  to  is  the  '•  Pastoral  de  Jacinto,  "  which 
Montalvan  tell  us  was  the  first  play  Lope  wrote  in 
three  acts,  and  that  it  was  composed  while  he  was  at- 
tached to  the  i^erson  of  the  Bishop  of  Avila.  This 
must  have  been  about  the  year  1580;  but  as  the 
Jacinto  was  not  printed  till  thirty-three  years  after- 
wards, it  may  perhaps  have  undergone  large  changes 
before  it  was  offered  to  the  public,  whose  requisitions 
had  advanced  in  the  interval  no  less  than  the  condition 
of  the  theatre.  He  says  in  the  Dedication,  that  it  was 
'"'  written  in  the  years  of  his  youth,"  and  it  is  founded 
on  the  somewhat  artificial  story  of  a  shepherd  fairly 
made  jealous  of  himself  by  the  management  of  another 
shepherd,  who  hopes  thus  to  obtain  the  shepherdess 
they  both  love,  and  who  passes  himself  off,  for  some 
time,  as  another  Jacinto,  and  as  the  only  one  to  whom 
the  lady  is  really  attached.  It  has  the  same  flowing 
versification  with  ''  The  True  Lover,"  but  it  is  not 
superior  in  merit  to  that  drama,  which  can  hardly  have 
preceded  it  by  more  than  two  or  three  years.'^ 

Moralities,  too,  written  with  no  little  spirit,  and  with 
strong  internal  evidence  of  having  been  publicly  per- 
formed, occur  here  and  there,  —  sometimes  where  we 
should  least  look  for  them.  Four  such  are  produced  in 
his  "  Pilgrim  in  his  own  Country  "  ;  the  romance,  it 
may  be  remembered,  which  is  not  without  allusions  to 
its  author's  exile,  and  wdiich  seems  to  contain  some  of 
his   personal  experiences  at  Valencia.     One  of  these 

'  ^Nloutalvan  says:  "  Lopp  greatly  "Quatro  Comedins  Faiiiosas  De  Don 
pleased  Mamiciue,  the  Bishop  of  Avila.  Luis  de  Gongora  y  [.ope  de  Vega  (Par- 
ity certain  eclogues  which  he  wrote  for  pio,"  etc.  ;  and  afterwards  in  the  eigh- 
hiin,  and  by  the  drama  of  '  The  Pasto-  teenth  volume  of  the  Coniedias  of  Lope, 
ral  of  Jacinto,'  the  earliest  he  wrot^*  in  ]Ma(lrid,  1623.  It  was  al.so  })riuted  sep- 
three  acts."  (Obras,  Torn.  XX.  p.  30.)  arately,  under  the  double  title  of  "La 
It  was  first  printed  at  Madrid,  in  1613,  Selva  de  Albania,  y  el  Qeloso  de  si  mis- 
4to,  by  Sanchez,  in  a  volume  entitled  mo." 


234  LOPE'8    earliest    dramas.  [Pkkiod  II. 

allegorical  plays  is  declared  to  have  been  performed 
in  front  of  the  venerable  cathedral  at  Saraij-ossa.  and  is 
among  the  more  curious  s])ecimens  of  such  entertain- 
ments, since  it  is  accompanied  with  explanations  of  the 
way  in  which  the  churches  were  used  for  theatrical 
pur})()ses,  and  ends  with  an  account  of  the  ex- 
*  191)  position  of  *  the  Host  as  an  appropriate  conclu- 
sion for  a  drama  so  devout.^" 
Another,  called  "'  The  Soul's  Voyage,"  is  set  forth  as 
if  represented  in  a  public  square  of  Barcelona.^^  It 
opens  with  a  ballad,  which  is  sung  by  three  persons, 
and  is  followed,  first,  by  a  prologue  full  of  cumbrous 
learning,  and  then  bv  another  ballad,  both  sung  and 
danced,  as  we  are  told,  ''  with  much  skill  and  grace." 
After  all  this  note  of  preparation  comes  the  "  Moral 
Action"  itself.  The  Soul  enters  dressed  in  white, — 
the  way  in  which  a  disembodied  spirit  was  indicated  to 
the  audience.  A  clown,  who,  as  the  droll  of  the  piece, 
represents  the  Human  Will,  and  a  gallant  youth,  who 
represents  Memory,  enter  at  the  same  time  ;  one  of 
them  lu'ging  the  Soul  to  set  out  on  the  voyage  of  sal- 
vation, and  the  other  endeavoring  to  jest  her  out  of 
such  a  pious  ])urpose.  At  this  critical  moment,  Satan 
appears  as  a  shi])-ca])tain,  in  a  black  suit  fringed  with 
flames,  and  accompanied  ])y  Selfishness,  Appetite,  and 
other  vices,  as  his  sailors,  and  ofters  to  speed  the  Soul 
on  her  voyage,  all  singing  merrily  together:  — 

Holloa  !  the  good  ship  of  Delight 

Spreads  her  sails  for  the  sea  to-day  ; 

Who  embarks  ?  who  wnbarks,  then,  I  say  ? 

To-day,  the  good  ship  of  Content, 

Witli  a  wind  at  her  clioice  for  her  course,  * 

To  a  land  where  no  troubles  are  sent, 

"^  It  fdls  nearly   fifty  pages  in   the      "A  Moral  Representation  of  the  Soul's 
third  book  of  the  romance.  Vovage";— in  other  words,  A  Mora/,- 

"  In  the  first  book.      It  is  entitlc(l      it,/' 


€hai'.  XV. J  lope's    earliest    DRAMAS.  235 

Wlicrc  noiio  kiHiws  the  stings  of  I'emorse, 
With  a  wuul  IViir  and  free  takes  her  flight  ;  — 
Who  unibaiks  '!  who  embarks,  then,  1  say  ?  ^'■^ 

A  new  world  is  announced  as  their  destination,  and 
the  Will  asks  whether  it  is  the  one  lately  discovered 
by  Columbus  ;  to  which  and  to  other  similar  questions 
Satan  replies  evasively,  but  declares  that  he  is  a 
greater  pilot  of  the  seas  than  Magellan  or 
Drake,  and  w^ill  insure  to  all  *who  sail  with  *  200 
him  a  happy  and  prosperous  voyage.  Memory 
opposes  the  project,  but,  after  some  resistance,  is  put 
to  sleep ;  and  Understanding,  who  follows  as  a  grey- 
beard full  of  wise  counsel,  comes  too  late.  The  adven- 
turers are  already  gone.  But  still  he  shouts  after 
them,  and  continues  his  warnings,  till  the  ship  of  Peni- 
tence arrives,  with  the  Saviour  for  its  pilot,  a  cross  for 
its  mast,  and  sundry  Saints  for  its  sailors.  They  sum- 
mon the  Soul  anew.  The  Soul  is  surprised  and 
shocked  at  her  situation ;  and  the  piece  ends  with  her 
embarkation  on  board  the  sacred  vessel,  amidst  a  feu 
de  j'oie,  and  the  shouts  of  the  delighted  spectators, 
who,  we  may  suppose,  had  been  much  edified  by  the 
show. 

Another  of  these  strange  dramas  is  founded  on  the 
story  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  and  is  said  to  have  been 
represented  at  Perpignan,  then  a  Spanish  fortress,  by 
a  party  of  soldiers ;  one  of  the  actors  being  mentioned 
by  name  in  its  long  and  absurdly  learned  Prologue .^'^ 
Among  the  interlocutors  are  Envy,  Youth,  Repentance, 
and  Good  Advice  ;  and  among  other  extraordinary  pas- 

12  Oy  la  Nahe  del  deleyte  Se  quiere  hazer  a  la  Mar. 

Se  quiere  hazer  4  la  Mar  ;  —  Ay  qulen  se  quiera  embarcar? 

Ay  quien  se  quiera  embarcar?  j;i  Peregrine  en  su  I'atria,  Sevilla,  1604,  4to, 

Oy  la  Nabe  del  contento,  f  36   b 

Con  vlento  en  popa  de  gusto,  '      ' 

SSnrirnfent^'  "  Book    Fourtli.      The    Compliment 

Viendo  que  ay  prospero  viento,  to  the  actor  shows,  of  course,    that  the 


i^oG  lope's    earliest    dramas.  [Pkimod  1L 

sages  it  contains  a  flowing  paraj^lirase  of  Horace's 
'-  Beatus  ille."  prononnced  b}'  the  resj^ectable  proprie- 
tor of  tlie  swine  intrusted  to  the  nnhappy  Prodigal. 

The  fourth  Morahty  found  in  the  romance  of  the 
Pilu'rini  is  entitled  "  The  Marriai»;e  of  the  Soul  and 
Divine  Love";  and  is  set  forth  as  having  been  acted 
in  a  public  square  at  Valencia,  on  occasion  of  the  mar- 
riage of  Philip  the  Third  with  Margaret  of  Austria, 
which  took  place  in  that  city,  —  an  occasion,  we  are 
told,  when  Lope  himself  appeared  in  the  character  of 
a  bnffoon.^^  and  one  to  which  this  drama,  though 
*  201  it  seems  to*' have  been  written  earlier,  Avas  care- 
fully adjusted.i-^  The  World,  Sin,  the  City  of 
Jerusalem,  and  Faith,  who  is  dressed  hi  the  costume  of- 
a  captain-general  of  Spain,  all  play  parts  in  it.  Envy 
enters,  in  the  first  scene,  as  from  the  infernal  regions, 
throuo-h  a  mouth  castins;  forth  flames ;  and  the  last 
scene  represents  Love,  stretched  on  the  cross,  and  wed- 
ded to  a  fair  damsel  who  figures  as  the  Soul  of  Man. 
Some  parts  of  this  drama  are  very  oftensive ;  espe- 
cially the  passage  in  wdiich  Margaret  of  Austria,  with 
celestial  attributes,  is  represented  as  arriving  in  the 
galley  of  Faith,  and  the  j^assage  in  which  Philip's  en- 
trance into  A^alencia  is  described  literally  as  it  oc- 
curred, but  substitutiu":  the  Saviour  for  the  king,  and 
the  prophets,  the  martyrs,  and  the  hierarchy  of  heaven 

jnece  was  acted.  Indeed,  this  is  the  it  was  in  the  Moral  Play  of  the  Prodi- 
proper  inference  fi-oni  the  whole  Pro-  gal  Son,  found  in  the  Fourth  Book  of 
logue.  Obras,  Tom.  V.  p.  347.  Loi)e's  "Peregrino  en  su  Patria,"  which, 
^*  Jlihana,  in  his  continuation  of  though  there  sjioken  of  as  acted  at  Per- 
Mariana,  (Lib.  X.  c.  15,  Madrid,  1804,  ^])ignan,  seems  also,  from  a  passage  at 
folio,  p.  589,)  says,  when  speaking  of  f.  211,  ed.  1604,  to  have  been  repre- 
the  marriage  of  Pliilip  III.  at  Valencia,  .sented  at  the  Mamage  of  Philip  III. 
"In  the  midst  of  such  rejoicings,  taste-  and  Margaret  of  Austria,  at  Valencia, 
ful  and  freijuent  festivities  and  miis(|uer-  in  159H,  and  in  wliich  the  "Gracio.so" 
ades  were  not  wanting,  in  whicli  I^ope  apjiears  under  tlic  name  of  "  Helardo," 
de  Vega  played  tlie  pait  of  the  butfoon."  well  known  at  the  time  as  the  poetical 
In  what  particular  piece  Lope  played  name  of  Lope.  See  ante.  Chap.  XIII. 
the  part  of  the  buffoon,  Mifiana  does  note  18. 
not  tell  us.      I  suspect,   however,   that  ^^  In  Book  Second. 


CiiAi".  XV 


LOPKS    EARLIEST    DRAMAS. 


'^6i 


Ibr  the  S])aiiisli  nobles  and  clergy  who  really  appeared 
ojti  the  occasion. ^*^ 

Such  were,  probably,  the  unsteady  attempts  with 
which  Lope  began  his  career  on  the  public  stage  during 
his  exile  at  A'aleneia  and  for  some  years  afterwards. 
They  are  certainly  wild  enough  in  their  structure,  and 
sometimes  gross  in  sentiment,  though  hardly  worse  in 
either  respect  than  the  similar  allegorical  nnsteries  and 
farces  which,  till  just  about  the  same  period,  were  per- 
formed in  France  and  England,  and  much  superior  in 
their  general  tone  and  style.  How  long  he  continued  to 
write  them,  or  how  many  he  Avrote,  we  do  not  know. 
None  of  them  appear  in  the  collection  of  his 
dramas,  which  does  not  begin  tUl  1604,''  *  though  *  202 
an  allegorical  spirit  is  occasionally  visible  in  some 
of  his  plays,  which  are,  in  other  respects,  quite  in  the 


1''  Lope  boasts  that  he  has  made  this 
sort  of  commutation  and  acconnnoda- 
tion,  as  if  it  were  a  merit.  "  Tliis  was 
literally  the  way."  he  says,  "in  which 
his  Majesty,  King  Philip,  entered  Va- 
lencia."    Obras,  Tom.  V.  p.  187. 

1"  A  very  curious  and  excessively 
rare  volume,  however,  appeared  at  Ma- 
drid the  year  before,  of  which  I  found 
a  copy  in  the  Biblioteca  Amliroijiana 
in  Milan,  and  ^\•hich  contains  plays  of 
Lope.  It  is  entitled,  "Scis  Conicdias 
de  Lope  de  Vega  Carpio  y  de  otros 
autores  cujos  nombres  dellas  (sic)  son 
estos  :  — 

1 .  De  la  Destruicion  de  Constantino- 
pla. 

2.  De  la  Fundacion  de  la  Alhambra 
de  Granada. 

3.  De  los  Amigos  enojados. 

4.  De  la  Libertad  de  Castilla. 

5.  De  las  Hazahas  del  Cid. 

6.  Del  Perseguido. 

Con  licencia  de  la  Sta.  Inquisicion  y 
Ordinario.  En  Madrid,  impreso  por 
Pedro  de  Madrigal.  Anol603."  Small 
4to,  ff.  272. 

All  six  of  the  above  plays  are  marked 
in  Huerta's  Catalogo  as  Lope's,  but 
neither  of  them,  I  tliiuk,  is  in  the  list 
of  the  "Peregrine,"  1604,  where  in 
fact,    1    suppose,    Lope    means  —  (by  a 


reference  to  this  publication,  one  edition 
of  which  aj)peared  in  1603  at  Lisbon, 
and  I  believe  another  at  Seville)  —  to 
discredit  them.  And,  no  doubt,  the 
iirst — "La  Destruicion  de  Constanti- 
nopla  "  —  is  not  his,  but  Gabriel  Las- 
so dc  la  Vega's.  On  the  other  hand, 
however,  No.  3,  "Amistad  pagada,"  is 
in  Vol.  I.  of  Lope's  Comedias,  1604, 
and  No.  6,  "Carlos  el  Perseguido,"  is 
in  the  same  volume;  while  No.  4,  "La 
Libertad  de  Castilla,"  appears  in  Vol. 
XIX.,  1626,  as  "El  Condc  Fernau 
Gonzalez."  These  thi'ee,  therefore,  are 
Lope's.  I  did  not  have  time  to  read 
them,  but  I  ran  them  over  hastily. 
The  first  in  the  volume,  which  is  Ga- 
briel Lasso  de  la  Vega's,  and  which  is 
short,  seemed  to  be  in  the  rude  style 
of  the  stage  when  Lope  took  it  in  hand, 
and  has  allegorical  personages.  Death, 
Discord,  etc.  The  sixth  and  the  thiid, 
on  the  contrary,  are  mucdi  in  Lope's 
final  manner,  at  least  much  more  so 
than  the  others.  It  .should  be  noted 
that  the  third  is  inserted  in  the  volume 
by  mistake  as  the  fifth,  and  so  cicr 
vcrsd ;  and  that  the  fourth  is  said  to 
be  written  in  "lengua  antigua."  The 
fifth  is  on  the  death  of  the  Cid  and  the 
taking  of  Valencia,  and  has  above  fifty 
"  iiguras." 


238  lope's    plays    at    MADPID.  [Pkui..!.  II. 

temper  of  the  secuhir  tlieutre.  But  tluit  he  wrote 
such  religions  dramas  early,  and  that  he  wrote  great 
numbers  of  them,  in  the  course  of  his  life,  is  unques- 
tional)le. 

In  Madrid,  if  he  found  little  to  hinder,  he  also  found 
little  to  help  him,  except  two  rude  theatres,  or  rather 
court-\ards,  licensed  for  the  representation  of  i)lays, 
and  a  dramatic  taste  formed  or  Ibrming  in  the  charac- 
ter of  the  people.^*^  But  this  was  enough  for  a  spirit 
like  his.  His  success  was  immediate  and  complete ; 
his  popularity  overwhelming.  Cervantes,  as  we  have 
seen,  declared  him  to  be  a  '-prodigy  of  nature  "  ;  and, 
though  himself  seekmg  both  the  fame  and  the  profit 
of  a  writer  for  the  public  stage,  generously  recognized 
his  great  rival  as  its  sole  monarch.^^ 

Many  years,  however,  elapsed  before  he  published 
even  a  single  volume  of  the  plays  with  which  he  was 
thus  delighting  the  audiences  of  Madrid,  and  settling 
the  final  forms  of  the  national  drama.  This  was,  no 
doubt,  in  part  owing  to  the  habit,  which  seems  to  have 
prevailed  in  Spain  from  the  first  appearance  of 
*  203  the  theatre,  of  regarding  *  its  literature  as  ill- 
suited  for  publication  ;  and  in  part  to  the  cir- 
cumstance, that,  when  plays  were  produced  on  the 
stage,  the  author  usually  lost  his  right  in  them,  if  not 

1^  The  description  of  an  imaginary  a  phrase  frecpiently  used  ;  and  though 
performance  of  a  popular  drama  in  a  nometimcsundL'i-iitoO'X  invudam partem, 
small  town  of  Castile  just  at  this  peri-  as  it  is  in  Don  Quixote,  Parte  L  c.  46, 
od  — 1595  —  can  be  found  in  "  Ni  Rey  —  "  Vete  de  mi  jjreseneia,  monstruo  de 
ni  Roque,"  (a  Novela  hy  Don  Patricio  naturaleza,"  —  it  is  generally  understood 
de  la  Escosura,  1835,  Tom.  I.  cap.  4,)  to  be  complimentary  ;  as,  for  instance, 
and  is  worth  reading,  to  see  how  rudely  in  the  "  Hcrniosa  Ester"  of  Lope,  (Co- 
things  were  then  managed,  or  supposed  media.s,  Tom.  XV.,  JIadrid,  1621,)  near 
to  be  managed.  the  end  of  the  iir.st  act,  where  Ahasue- 

1^  See  ante,   p.    125,   and  Comedias,  rus,  in  admiration  of  the  fair  Esther, 

Madrid,  1615,  4to,  Prologo.     Thephra.se  says:  — 
iiwiuilruo  de  luduralezu,  in  this  i)as.sage,  Tanta  belle7.a 

11  ..*  1  /    ■        1  Monstruo  seri  de  la  naturaleza. 

has  been  sometimes  su|)po.sed  to  imply  i>*""o"  u  -^i    <*<=  ■»  ua       ic«i 

a  censure  of  Lojie  on  the  ])art  of  Ci-r-  Cen-antes,  I  have  no  doubt,  used  it  in 
vantes.     But  thi^  i~  ;i   iiii-^tMkf.      It  is      wonder  at  Lope's  prodigious  fertility. 


I'llAI'.    XV.] 


NUMBEli    OF    Ills    DILUIAS 


239 


entirely,  yet  so  far  that  he  coiihl  not  pubhsh  them 
without  the  assent  of  the  actors.  But  whatever  may 
have  been  the  cause,  it  is  certain  that  a  multitude  of 
Lope's  plays  had  been  acted  before  he  published  any 
of  them  ;  and  that,  to  this  day,  not  a  fourth  pjirt  of 
those  he  wrote  has  l)een  preserved  by  the  press.'-^" 

Their  very  number,  however,  may  have  been  one 
fjbstacle  to  their  pu])li('ation  ;  for  the  most  moderate 
and  certain  accounts  on  this  point  have  almost  a  fabu- 
lous air  about  them,  so  extravagant  do  they  seem.  In 
1603,  he  gives  us  the  titles  of  two  hundred  and  nine- 
teen pieces  that  he  had  already  written  ,-^^  in  1()09,  he 


-'  Lope  must  liave  been  a  writer  for 
the  public  stage  as  early  as  1586  or 
1587,  and  a  popular  writer  at  Madrid 
soon  after  1590  ;  but  we  have  no  plays 
by  him  dated  earlier  than  1593 -S)4, 
\Seha(;k's  Nachtrage,  1854,  ]).  45,)  and 
no  knowledge  that  any  of  his  plays  were 
printed,  with  his  own  consent,  before 
the  volume  which  appeared  as  the  No- 
vena  Parte,  Madrid,  1617.  Yet,  in  the 
Preface  to  the  "  Peregrino  en  .su  Patria," 
licensed  in  1603,  he  gives  us  a  list  of 
TWO  hundred  and  nineteen  plays  which 
he  acknowledges  and  claims  ;  and  in 
the  same  Preface  (I  possess  the  l)ook) 
he  states  their  number  at  two  hundred 
and  thirty.  In  the  edition  of  1733 
(which  I  also  have)  it  is  raised  to  three 
hundred  and  forty-nine  ;  but  in  the 
Obras  Sueltas,  (Tom.  V.,  1776,)  it  is 
V)rought  back  to  three  hundred  and 
tliirty-nine,  perhaps  copying  the  edi- 
tion of  1605.  Of  all  these,  none,  1 
■conceive,  has  much  authority  except 
the  first,  and  it  may  be  ditticult  to  tind 
sufficient  ground  for  attributing  to  Lope 
some  of  the  plays  whose  titles  are  added 
in  the  later  editions,  though  it  is  not  un- 
likely that  some  of  them  may  l)e  famil- 
iar to  us  under  other  names.  There  are 
«'ight  editions  of  the  Peregi-ino,  ini-lud- 
ing  that  in  the  fifth  volume  of  Saucha'.s 
(joilection,  1777.  Again,  in  1618,  when 
he  says  he  had  written  eight  hundred, 
(Comedias,  Tom.  XL,  Barcelona,  1618, 
Prologo, )  only  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
four  full-length  plays,  and  a  few  eiitn:- 
j/iescs,  had  been  printed.  Finally,  nf 
■the  eighteen  hundred  attributed  to  liini 


in  1635,  after  his  death,  by  Montalvau 
and  others,  (Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  XX. 
l>.  49, )  only  about  three  liundred  and 
twenty  or  thirty  can  be  found  in  the 
volumes  of  his  collected  plays  ;  and 
Lord  Holland,  counting  auios  and  all, 
which  would  swell  the  general  claim  of 
Montalvan  to  at  least  twenty-two  liun- 
dred, makes  out  but  five  hundred  and 
sixteen  jirinted  dramas  of  Lope.  Life 
of  Lope  de  Vega,  London,  1817,  8vo, 
Vol.  11.  pp.  158-180. 

'■^1  This  curious  list,  with  the  Preface 
in  which  it  stands,  is  worth  reading 
over  carefully,  as  affording  indications 
of  tlie  history  and  progress  of  Ijojie's 
genius.  It  is  to  Lope's  dramatic  life 
what  the  list  in  Meres  is  to  Shakesiieare. 
It  is  found  best  in  the  first  edition, 
1604.  In  the  Spanish  translation  of 
this  History,  (Tom.  IL,  1851,  pp.  551, 
552, )  in  Schack's  Nachtrage,  (1854,  pp. 
45  -50,)  and  in  the  Documentos  Inedi- 
tos,  (Tom.  I.,)  may  be  Ibund  the  titles 
of  a  number  of  Lojte's  Comedias  that 
are  still  extant  in  his  autograj)h  MSS. 
Two  of  them,  at  least,  liave  never  been 
published,  "  Brasil  Restituido,"  found- 
ed on  the  capture  of  San  Salvador  by 
the  Sjianiards  in  1625,  and  "La  Reina 
Dona  Maria,"  founded  on  the  strange 
circumstances  attending  the  birth  of 
Don  Jaime  el  Conquistador  as  naively 
related  in  Muntaner's  Chronicle.  But 
of  the  last,  which  is  in  the  possession 
of  Prince  Metternich,  a  satisfactory  ac- 
count by  Wolf  may  be  found  in  the 
"  Sitzungs-berichte  "  of  the  Imi)erial 
Acade::;y  at  Vii-iiiiii  for  Apiil,  1855. 


2-40 


M'MBEi;    OF    HIS    ])1;a.MAS. 


[PKraoD  IL 


says  their  number  had  risen  to  IbiU'  hundred 
*  204    and  ei,trhty-three  ;  "  *  in   1618,  he   says  it  was 

eiglit  hundred;'^''  in  1619,  again,  in  round  luun- 
bers.  he  states  it  at  nine  liundred;-'  and  in  1024,  at 
one  thousand  and  seventy."'''  After  his  deatii.  in  1635, 
Perez  de  Montalvan,  his  intimate  friend  and  eulogists 
who  three  3'ears  before  had  declared  the  number  to  be 
fifteen  hmidred,  without  reckoning  the  shorter  pieces.-'^ 
puts  it  at  eighteen  hundred  plays  and  lour  hundred 
a  (if  OS  ;^^  inimhers  which  are  confidently  repeated  Ijy 
Antonio   in   his   notice  of  Lope,-*^  and  by  Franchi,  an 


111  tlie  year  1860 — that  is,  since  tlie 
]ireeeiling  paragi'ajili  was  published  — 
there  a])peared  iu  the  tifty-seeoud  vol- 
ume of  Hivadeneyra's  Biblioteca  an  ex- 
traordinary' coiitribution  to  the  bibliog- 
rajihy  of  Loin's  coincdkis  and  aufos.  Its 
author  is  Mr.  J.  l\.  Chorley  of  London, 
and  it  is  s;\id  to  be  "  corregido  y  adi- 
fionado  por  el  Senor  Don  Caj'etano  de 
Banera,"  whose  Catalogue  of  Spanish 
plays  and  their  authoi'S  is  elsewhere 
noticed.  How  far  the  additions  and. 
con-ections  of  Senor  Banera  e.xtend 
does  not  appear,  but  that  the  immense 
and  careful  labor  of  the  bibliography  in 
question  is  substantially  to  be  credited 
to  Mr.  Chorley,  and  that  the  alterations 
are  few  and  unimportant,  is  hardlj' 
doubtful.  The  giand  result,  however, 
as  reached  in  the  final  summary  of  Bar- 
rera,  though  I  suspect  this  is  not  to 
be  accepted  as  absolutely  accurate,  is, 
that  of  printed  n/niedins  known  to  be 
by  Lope  there  are  403,  besides  which 
there  are  G'i  ])robably  his  ;  106  cited  in 
the  "Peregiiiio,"  luit  not  found  ;  ined- 
ited,  11  ;  and  doubtful,  (porvarios  con- 
ceptos,)  25,  making,  in  all,  608,  but  re- 
ducing the  "  leiwrtorio  conocido"  of 
Loj)e  to  439  comedins.  In  relation  to 
the  loas  and  entremeses  no  careful 
reckoning  was  made,  so  uncertain  is  tlie 
authorship  of  those  attiibuted  to  him. 
The  whole  catalogtie  fills  twenty-two 
large  pages  in  double  columns,  and  is 
extremely  curious  ami  satisfactoiy,  ex- 
cept that  it  gives  us  so  small  a  minil>er 
of  titles  compared  with  the  recognized 
number  of  Lope's  dramatic  works  in 
the  two  great  classes  to  which  the  reck- 
oning relates. 


-'-  In  his  "New  Art  of  AVriting 
Plays,"  he  says,  "  1  have  now  written, 
including  one  that  I  have  finished  this 
week,  four  hundred  and  eighty-three 
plays."  He  jjrinted  this  for  the  first 
time  in  1609  ;  and  though  it  was  pro1>- 
ably  written  four  oi-  five  years  earlier, 
yet  these  lines  near  the  end  may  have 
been  added  at  the  moment  the  whoh- 
poem  went  to  the  press.  Obras  Suelta?., 
Tom.  lY.  ]>.  417. 

^^  In  the  Prologo  to  Comedias,  Tom. 
XI.,  Barcelona,  1618;— a  witty  ad- 
dress of  the  theatre  to  the  readers. 

-*  Comedias,  Tom.  XIV.,  Madrid, 
1620,  Dedication  of  "El  Verdadero 
Amante"  to  his  son. 

•^5  Comedias, Tom.  XX.,  Madrid,  1629, 
Preface,  where  he  says,  "Candid  minds 
will  ho))e,  that,  as  I  have  lived  long 
enough  to  write  a  tliousand  and  seventy 
dramas,  I  may  live  long  enough  to  print 
them."  The  certificates  of  tliis  volume 
are  dated  1624-25. 

'■^  In  the  Indice  de  los  "Ingenios  de 
Madrid,"  appended  to  the  "Para  To- 
dos"  of  Montalvan,  printed  in  1632. 
he  says,  Lojie  had  then  published  twen- 
ty volumes  of  i)lays,  and  that  tlie 
number  of  those  that  had  been  acted, 
without  reckoning  ontoi^,  wa.s  fifteen 
hundred.  Lope  also  himself  j)uts  it  at 
fifteen  hundred  in  the  Egloga  a  Clau- 
dio,"  which,  though  not  j)ublished  till 
after  his  death,  must  have  been  written 
as  earl}-  as  1632,  since  it  speaks  of  tht- 
"  Dorotea,"  first  puldished  in  that  year, 
as  still  waiting  for  the  light. 

'^'  Fama  Postunia,  Obi-as  Sueltas, 
Tom.  XX.  p.   49. 

®  Art.  Lupus  Felix  dc  Vega. 


C'li.u'.   XV.]  NU.MIJKK    OF    HIS    DliAMAS.  241 

Italian,  who  lijul  been  much  with  Lope  at  Madrid,  and 
who  wrote  one  of  tlie  multitudinous  eulogies  on  him 
after  his  death.-"*  The  ])rodigious  facility  implied  by 
this  is  further  conhrmed  by  the  fact  stated  by  himself 
in  one  of  his  ph^y>^,  that  it  was  written  and  acted  in 
five  days;^°  and  by  the  anecdotes  of  Montalvan,  that 
he  wrote  five  full-length  dramas  at  Toledo  in  fifteen 
days,  and  one  act  of  another  in  a  few  hours  of  the 
early  morning,  without  seeming  to  make  any  efibrt  in 
either  case.^^ 

Of  this  enormous  mass  about  five  hundred  dramas 
appear  to  have  been  published  at  different 
times,  —  *  most  of  them  in  the  twenty-five,  or,  *  205 
as  is  sometimes  reckoned,  twenty-eight,  vol- 
umes which  were  printed  in  various  places  between 
1604  and  1647,  but  of  which  it  is  now  nearly  impossi- 
ble to  form  a  complete  collection. '^^  In  these  volumes, 
so  far  as  any  rules  of  the  dramatic  art  are  concerned, 
it  is  apparent  that  Lope  took  the  theatre  in  the  state 
in  which  he  found  it ;  and  instead  of  attempting  to 
adapt  it  to  any  previous  theory,  or  to  any  existing 
models,  whether  ancient  or  recent,  made  it  his  great 
object  to  satisfy  the  popular  audiences  of  his  age ;  ^  — 

'^^  Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.   XXI.  pp.  3,  ^  By  far  the  finesst  copy  of  Lope  de 

19.  Vega's  Coinedias  that  I  have  ever  seen 

^^  "All  studied  oiit  and  Avritten  in  is  in  the  possession  of  Lord  Taunton 

five    days."      Comedias,    Torn.    XXL,  (formerly  the  Rt.   Hon.  Henry  Labou- 

Madrid,   1635,  f.   72,  b.  chere)    at   Stoke   Park,    near  London. 

'^^  Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.   XX.  pp.  51,  Including  the  Vega  del  Parnaso,  1647, 

52.     How  eagerly  his  plays  were  sought  and  the  various  editions  of  the  different 

by  the  actors  and  received  by  the  audi-  volumes,   where  such  exist,    it  makes 

•ences   of  Madrid   may   be   understood  forty-four  volumes  in  all. 

from   the   fact  Lope   mentions  in  the  The  selection  made  by  Hartzenliusch 

poem  to  his  friend  Claudio,  that  above  for  the  Biblioteca  de  Autores  Espanoles, 

a  hundred  were  acted  within  twenty-  and  found  in  Vols.   XXIV.,   XXXIV., 

four  hours  of  the  time  when  their  com-  and  XLI.  of  that  collection,  to  which 

position  was   completed.     01)ras   Suel-  one   more   is  ])romised,    is   well    made, 

tas,  Tom.  IX.  p.  368.      Pacheco,  in  the  but  it  is  not  edited  witli  the  care  sliown 

notice  of  Lope  prefixed  to  his  "  Jeru-  in  the  edition  of  Calderon  by  tlie  same 

salen,"  1609,  .says  that  .some  of  his  most  hand.      I  do  not  know  why  the  "Doro- 

admired  plays  were  written  in  two  days.  tea"  is  inserted. 

Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  XIV.  }).  xxxii.  ^3  ^f^  ^..jriy  ^g  1(303,  Lope  maintains 

vol,.  II.  16 


2-1:2  NUMBEK    OF    Ills    J)1;AMAS.  [I'luiod  1L 

an  object  which  lie  avows  8o  distinctly  in  his  "  Art  of 
Writing  Plays,"  and  in  the  Preface  to  the  twentieth 
volinne  of  his  Dramas,  that  there  is  no  donbt  it  was 
the  prevailing  pnrpose  with  which  he  labored  for  the 
theatre.  Fur  such  a  purpose,  he  certainly  appeared  at 
a  fortunate  moment ;  and  possessing  a  genius  no  less 
fortunate,  was  enabled  to  become  the  founder  of  the  na- 
tional Spanish  theatre,  which,  since  his  time,  has  rested 
substantially  on  the  basis  where  he  placed  and  left  it. 

But  this  very  sj-stem  —  if  that  may  be  called  a  sys- 
tem which  was  rather  an  instinct  —  almost  necessarily 
supposes  that  he  indulged  his  audiences  in  a  great 
variety  of  dramatic  forms ;  and  accordingly  we  find, 
among  his  plays,  a  diversity,  alike  in  spirit,  tone,  and 
structin^e,  which  was  evidently  intended  to  humor  the 
uncertain  cravings  of  the  popular  taste,  and  which  we 
know  was  successful.  Whether  he  himself  ever  took 
the  trouble  to  consider  what  were  the  different  classes 

into  which  his  dramas  might  be  divided,  does 
*  206    not   appear.       Certainly   no   *  attempt   at   any 

technical  arrangement  of  them  is  made  in  the 
collection  as  originally  printed,  except  that,  in  the  first 
and  third  ^•olumes,  a  few  enfremeses,  or  farces,  generally 
in  prose,  are  thrown  in  at  the  end  of  each,  as  a  sort  of 
appendix.  All  the  rest  of  the  plays  contained  in  them 
are  in  verse,  and  are  called  comedias, —  a  M'ord  which  is 
by  no  means  to  be  translated  '•  comedies,"  but  "  dra- 
mas," since  no  other  name  is  comprehensive  enough  to 
include  their  manifold  varieties,  —  and   all  of  them  are 

divided  into  ihvim  J ornadan,  or  acts. 

I 

this   (loctriiip    in    the    Preface   to   liis  "  Nueva    Arte    de    Hacer   Comedias," 

"  Peregrine  "  ;    it     occurs     IVeciuently  however,  is  almnduntly  ex])licit  on  the 

afterwards   in    different    parts    of    his  subject  in  1609,  and  no  doubt  exjiressed 

works,  as,  for  instance,  in  the  Prologo  the   (h'liberate  puqjose   of  its   author, 

to  liis   "Castigo  sin  Venganza"  ;  and  from   wliieh    he   seems   never  to   liave 

he  left  it  as  a  h'gacy  in  the  "  Egloga  a  swerved  iluring  his  wliole  dramatic  ca- 

Clandio,"  print(Ml  after  his  deatli.     The  recr. 


(  ii.vr.   AV.J  F01LM8    OF    LOI'E's    DRAMAS.  243 

But  in  everytliing  else  there  seems  no  end  to  their 
diversities,  —  whether  we  regard  their  subjects,  run- 
ning iVoui  the  deepest  tragedy  to  the  broadest  farce, 
and  from  the  most  solemn  mysteries  of  religion  down 
to  the  loosest  frolics  of  common  life,  or  their  style, 
which  embraces  every  change  of  tone  and  measure 
known  to  the  poetical  language  of  the  country.  And 
all  these  diflerent  masses  of  Lope's  drama,  it  should  be 
further  noted,  run  insensibly  into  each  other,  —  the 
sacred  and  the  secular,  the  tragic  and  the  comic,  the 
heroic  action  and  tliat  from  vulgar  life,  —  until  some- 
times it  seems  as  if  there  were  neither  sepaiiite  form 
nor  distinctive  attribute  to  any  of  them. 

This,  however,  is  less  the  case  than  it  at  first  appears 
to  be.  Lope,  no  doubt,  did  not  always  know  or  care 
into  wdiat  peculiar  form  the  story  of  his  drama  was 
cast;  but  still  there  were  certain  forms  and  attributes 
invented  1)y  his  own  genius,  or  indicated  to  him  by 
the  success  of  his  predecessors  or  the  demands  of  his 
time,  to  which  each  of  his  dramas  more  or  less  tended. 
A  few,  indeed,  may  be  found,  so  nearly  on  the  limits 
that  separate  the  different  classes,  that  it  is  difficult  to 
assign  them  strictly  to  either  ;  but  in  all  —  even  in 
those  that  are  the  freest  and  wildest  —  the  distinctive 
elements  of  some  class  are  apparent,  while  all,  by  the 
peculiarly  national  spirit  that  animates  them,  show  the 
source  from  which  they  come,  and  the  direction  they 
are  destined  to  follow. 

The  fird  class  of  plays  that  Lope  seems  to  have  in- 
vented —  the   one    in  which  his  own   genius  seemed 
most  to  delight,   and   which  still  remains  more 
popular  in  Spain  *  than  any  other  —  consists  of    *207 
those  called  "  Comedias  de  Capa  y  Espada,"  or 
Dramas  with  Cloak  and  Sword.     They  took  their  name 


1^4-1:  COMEDIAS    DE    CAPA    Y    E.SPADA.  [Peiuud  II. 

from  the  circumstance,  that  their  principal  personages 
belong  to  the  genteel  jDortion  of  society,  accustomed, 
in  Lope's  time,  to  the  picturesque  national  dress  of 
cloaks  and  swords.  —  excluding,  on  the  one  hand,  those 
dramas  in  wliich  royal  personages  appear,  and.  on  the 
other,  those  which  are  devoted  to  common  life  and  the 
humbler  classes.  Their  main  and  moving  principle  is 
gallantry,  —  such  gallantry  as  existed  in  the  time  of 
their  author.  The  story  is  almost  always  involved 
and  intriguing,  and  almost  always  accompanied  with 
an  imderplot  and  parody  on  the  characters  and  adven- 
tures of  the  principal  parties,  formed  out  of  those  of 
the  servants  and  other  inferior  personages. 

Their  titles  are  intended  to  be  attractive,  and  are 
not  infrequently  taken  from  among  the  old  rhymed 
proverbs,  that  were  always  popular,  and  that  some- 
times seem  to  have  suggested  the  subject  of  the  drama 
itself.**  They  uniformly  extend  to  the  length  of  regu- 
lar pieces  for  the  theatre,  now  settled  at  three  jo7viadas, 
or  acts,  each  of  which.  Lope  advises,  should  have  its 
action  compressed  within  the  limits  of  a  single  day, 
though  he  himself  is  rarely  scrupulous  enough  to 
follow  his  own  recommendation.  They  are  not  prop- 
erly comedies,  for  nothing  is  more  frequent  in  them 
than  duels,  murders,  and  assassinations ;  and  they  are 
not  tragedies,  for,  besides  that  they  end  happily,  they 
are  generally  composed  of  humorous  and  sentimental 
dialogue,  and  their  action  is  carried  on  chiefly  by  lovers 
full  of  romance,  or  by  low  characters  whose  wit  is 
mingled  with  buffoonery.    All  this,  it  should  be  under- 

**  These  titles  were  often  in  the  old  And  in  the  verj-  next  play,  "  El  ausente 

1>alla<l  Tneasure,  and  inserted  as  a  line  en  el  Lugai":  — 
in  the  plav,  generally  at  the  end;  ex.  El  ausente  en  el  Lugar 

OT.   ' '  El  Ainete  de  Toledo  "  :  —  8e  queda  en  el  y  contento. 

°  Comedias,  Tom.  H.,  1618. 

ArAZtotl^To"  Calderon  and  other  dramatists  did  the 

same. 


Chap.  XV.]  THE    AZEKO    DE    MADRID,  245 

stood,  was  new  on  the  Spanish  stage;  or  if  hints  might 
have  been  furnished  for  individual  portions  of  it  as 
far  back  as  Torres  Naharro,  the  combination  at  least 
was  new,  as  well  as  the  manners,  tone,  and  cos- 
tume. 

*  Of  such  plaj^s  Lope  wrote  a  very  large  *  208 
number,  —  several  hundreds,  at  least.  His  ge- 
nius —  rich,  free,  and  eminently  inventive  —  was  well 
fitted  for  their  composition,  and  in  many  of  them 
he  shows  much  dramatic  tact  and  talent.  Among  the 
best  are  "The  Ugly  Beauty ";^5  "Money  makes  the 
Man"; -5*^  "The  Pruderies  of  Belisa,"-^"  which  has  the 
accidental  merit  of  being  all  but  strictly  within  the 
rules;  "The  Slave  of  her  Lover," '^^  in  which  he  has 
sounded  the  depths  of  a  woman's  tenderness ;  and 
"The  Dog  in  the  Manger,"  in  which  he  has  almost 
equally  well  sounded  the  depths  of  her  selfish  vanity.^^ 
But  perhaps  there  are  some  others  which,  even  better 
than  these,  will  show  the  peculiar  character  of  this 
class  of  Lope's  dramas,  and  his  peculiar  position  in  re- 
lation to  them.  To  two  or  three  such  we  will,  there- 
fore, now  turn. 

"  El  Azero  de  Madrid,"  or  The  Madrid  Steel,  is  one 
of  them,  and  is  among  his  earlier  works  for  the  stage  .'^'^ 

^5  Comedias,  Tom.  XXIV.,  Zaragoza,  may  be  well  to  remember  that  it  was 

1641,  4to,  f.  22,  etc.  written  only  a  year  and  a  half  before 

^  I  know  this  play,    "Dineros  son  Ijope  died.     See  note  at  the  end  of  this 

Calidad,"  only  among  the  Comedias  Su-  chapter. 

eltas  of  Lope  ;  but  it  is  no  doubt  his,  ^  Comedias,  Tom.   XXV.,  Qaragoea, 

as   it   is   in  Tom.    XXIV.    printed   at  1647,  f.  1,  etc. 

Zaragoza  in  1632,  wliich  contains  dif-  ^^  Comedias,    Tom.    XL,    Barcelona, 

ferent  plays  from  a  Tom.  XXIV.  print-  1618,   f.   1,  etc.     The  Preface   to  this 

ed  at  Zaragoza  in  1641,  which  I  have.  volume  is  curious,  on  accoimt  of  Lope'.s 

There    is    yet   a   third   Tom.    XXIV.,  complaints  of  the  book.sellers.     Recalls" 

printed  at  Madrid  in  1638.     The  inter-  it    "  Prologo   del  Teatro,"  and   niakes 

nal  evidence  would,  perhaps,  be  enough  the  surreptitious  publication  of  iiis  plays 

to  prove  its  authorship.  an  offence  against  the  drama  itself.      Ht; 

^  Comedias,    Tom.    IX.,    Barcelona,  intimates  that  it  was  not  very  uncom- 

1618,  f.  277,  etc.,  but  often  reprinted  mon  for  one  of  his   plays  to  be  acted 

since  under   the  title  of  "La  Melin-  seventy  times. 

drosa."      When   mentioning    the    con-  *"  The    "Azero   de  Madrid,"  which 

formity  of   this    play  to    the    rules,    it  was  written  as  early  as  1603,  has  often 


246  THE    AZERO    DE    MAUKID.  [?Enun>  11. 

It  takes  its  name  from  the  preparations  of  steel  for  me- 
dicinal purposes,  wliieh,  in  Lope's  time,  had  just  come 
into  fashionable  use  ;  but  the  main  story  is  that  of  a 
light-hearted  girl,  who  deceives  her  father,  and  espe- 
cially Lei  hypocritical  old  aunt,  by  pretending  to  be  ill 
and  taking  steel  medicaments  from  a  seeming  doctor. 
Avho  is  a  friend  of  her  lover,  and  who  prescriljes  walk- 
ing abroad,  and  such  other  free  modes  of  life  as 
may  ])est  afford  opportunities  for  her  admirer's  atten- 
tions. 
*  200  *  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  in  this  play 
we  find  some  of  the  materials  for  the  '*  Medecin 
Malgre  Lui "  ;  and  though  the  full  success  of  Moliere's 
original  wdt  is  not  to  be  questioned,  still  the  happiest 
portions  of  his  comedy  can  do  no  more  than  come  into 
fair  competition  with  some  passages  in  that  of  Lope. 
The  character  of  tlie  heroine,  for  instance,  is  drawn 
with  more  spirit  in  the  Spanish  than  it  is  in  the  French 
play;  and  that  of  the  devotee  aunt,  who  acts. as  her 
duenna,  and  whose  hypocrisy  is  exposed  when  she  her- 
self falls  in  love,  is  one  which  Moliere  might  well  have 
envied,  though  it  was  too  exclusively  Spanish  to  be 
brought  \dthin  the  courtly  conventions  1)}'  which  he 
was  restrained. 

The  whole  drama  is  full  of  life  and  gaiety,  and  has  a 
truth  and  reality  about  it  rare  on  iiny  stage.  Its  open- 
ing is  both  a  proof  of  this  and  a  characteristic  specimen 
of  its  author's  mode  of  placing  his  audience  at  once,  by 
a  decisive  movement,  in  the  midst  of  the  scene  and 
the  personages  he  means  to  represent.  Lisardo,  the 
hero,  and  Riselo,  his  friend,  appear  watching  the 
door  of  a  fishionable   church  in   Madrid,   at  tlie   con- 

1)een  priiit<*'l  separately,  and  is  found      another  hit  at  the  fashionable  drug  in 
in   the   regular   collection,  Tom.    XI.,      his  "Dorotea,"  Act  V.  Sc.  1. 
liarcelona,  lfil8,  f.  27,  etc.     Lope  has 


Cjiap.  XV.]  THE    AZEKO    DK    MADRID.  247 

c'lii.sion  of  tlie  service,  to  see  a  lady  with  whom 
Lisardo  is  in  love.  They  are  wearied  with  waiting, 
while  the  crowds  pass  out,  and  Riselo  at  last  declares 
he  will  wait  for  his  friend's  fancy  no  longer.  At  this 
moment  appears  Belisa,  the  lady  in  question,  attended 
by  her  aunt,  Theodora,  who  wears  an  affectedly  re- 
ligious dress  and  is  lecturing  her :  — 

Theodora.   Sliow  more  of  gentleness  aiul  iiioilt^sty  ;  — 

Of  gentleness  in  walking  quietly, 

Of  modesty  in  looking  only  down 

Upon  the  earth  you  tread. 
Belisa.  'T  is  what  1  ilo. 

Theodora.  What  ?     When  you  're  looking  straight  towards  that  man? 
Belisa.        Did  j'ou  not  bid  me  look  upon  the  earth  '< 

And  what  is  he  but  just  a  bit  of  it  ? 
Theodora,   I  said  the  earth  whereon  you  tread,  my  Jiieee. 
Belisa.        But  that  whereon  I  tread  is  hidden  (juite 

With  my  own  petticoat  and  walking-dress. 
Theodora.  Words  such  as  these  become  no  well-bred  maid. 

But,  by  your  mother's  blessed  memory,  * 

I  '11  put  an  end  to  all  your  pretty  tricks  ;  — 

What  ?    You  look  back  at  him  again  ? 
*  Belisa.  Who  ?     I  ?  *  210 

Theodora.  Yes,  you  ;  —  and  make  him  secret  .signs  besides. 
Belisa.        Not  I.     '.T  is  only  that  you  troubled  me 

With  teasing  (juestions  and  perverse  replies. 

So  that  I  stumbled  and  looked  round  to  see 

Who  would  prevent  my  fall. 
Riselo  (to  Lisard'j).  She  falls  again. 

Be  quick  and  iKdji  her. 
Lisardo  {to  Belisa.)  Pardon  me,  lady, 

And  forgive  my  glove. 
Theodora.  Who  ever  saw  the  like  ? 

Belisa.         I  thank  you,  sir  ;  you  saved  me  from  a  fall. 
Lisardo.      An  angel,  lady,  might  have  fallen  so  ; 

Or  stars  that  shine  with  heaven's  own  blessed  light 
Theodora.   I,  too,  can  fall  ;  but  't  is  u])on  your  trick. 

Good  gentleman,  farewell  to  you  ! 
Lim.rda.  Madam, 

Your  servant.     (Heaven  save  us  from  such  spleen!) 
Theodora.   A  pretty  fall  you  made  of  it  ;  and  now  I  hope 

You  '11  be  content,  since  they  assisted  you. 
Belim.         And  you  no  less  content,  since  now  you  have 

The  means  to  tease  me  for  a  week  to  come. 
Theodora.   But  why  again  do  you  turn, back  j'our  head  ? 


248 


DRAMAS    FOR    THE    COURT. 


[1'KU1U1>    II. 


Bcllsa.         W^hy,  sine  j-oii  think  it  wise  and  waiy 

To  notice  well  the  place  I  stunibleil  at, 

Lest  I  shoulil  stumble  there  when  next  1  j)ass. 
Theodora.   Mischief  befall  you  !     But  I  know  your  ways  ! 

You  '11  not  deny  this  time  j-ou  looked  upon  the  youth  ? 
Belisa.         Deny  it  ?     No  ! 

Theodina.  You  dare  confess  it,  then  ? 

Belisa.         Be  sure  I  dare.     You  saw  him  help  me, — 

An\l  would  you  have  me  fail  to  thank  him  for  it  ? 
Tlieodvra.   Go  to  !     Come  home  !  come  home  I 
Belisa.  Now  we  shall  have 

A  jnetty  scolding  cooked  up  out  of  this.*i 

*211  *  Other  pa.«:sages  are  equally  spirited  and  no 
less  Castilian.  The  scene,  at  the  be"innino^  of 
the  second  act,  between  Octavio,  another  lover  of  the 
lady,  and  his  servant,  who  jests  at  his  master's  passion, 
as  well  as  the  scene  with  the  mock  doctor,  that  follows, 
are  both  admirable  in  their  way,  and  must  have  pro- 
duced a  great  effect  on  the  audiences  of  Madrid,  who 
felt  how  true  they  were  to  the  manners  of  the  time. 

But  all  Lope's  dramas  were  not  written  for  the  })ub- 
lic  theatres  of  the  capital.     He  was  the  courtly,  no  less 


■"    TVo.    Lleuaoonluni  y  nioilestia  ;  — 
Ci)rdura  ea  iiiular  do  e<pa«io ; 
Modestia  en  que  solo  veaa 
La  mi' ma  tierra  que  pisas. 

R'l.     Ya  hago  lo  que  ine  en.«enas. 

Tfn.   Coino  niiraste  ac^uel  liombre? 

£fl.  No  me  dixiste  que  viera 
Scia  tierra?  pueji,  dime, 
Aquel  homhre  no  es  de  tierra  ? 

7Vo.   Yo  la  que  pisas  te  digo. 

Bel.  La  que  pi-o  va  cubicrta 
De  la  sava  y  los  chapines. 

Teo.    Que  palabnts  de  donwlla  I 
Por  el  siglo  de  tu  madre, 
Que  yo  tc  quite  essa."  tretas  I 
Otni  vez  le  miras?     Bel.  Yo? 

Teo.    Luego  no  le  hi/iste  senas  ? 

Bel.     Fuy  a  cier,  romo  me  turba-s 
Con  deniandas  y  n-spue-stas, 

Y  mire  quieii  me  tuuie.-ise. 
Rit.    Cay 'I  lleRjul  i  teuerla! 
Lix.     I'erdone,  vuessa  merced. 

El  guante      Ten.  Ay  cxtna.  como  OBta  '. 
Bel.     Ue^o  OS  las  manos,  SeBor  ; 

Que,  si  no  es  por  vos,  cayem. 
Lh.    Cayera  un  i^n^l,  S<M'i()ni, 

Y  fayeran  las  estrellas, 

A  quicn  da  mas  liunbre  el  sol. 
Tfo.    Y  yo  rayeni  en  la  puenta 

Yd,  raiiallero,  roii  Dioi ' 
U.i.     VA  OS  tfuanle,  y  me  detienda 

De  eonilieion  tan  e»tniiia! 
Teo     Ya  rayste,  yr  s  eontent.'i, 

D("  que  te  dieroti  la  maiio. 
Bel.     Y  tu  lo  irJs  de  que  teni^ 


Con  que  pudrirme  seys  dias. 
Teo.   A  que  bueluiis  la  cabeija  ? 
Bel.    Pues  no  tc  parece  que  es 

Advertencia  may  discreta 

Mirar  adonde  cahi , 

Para  que  otra  vez  no  buelua 

A  trf)pe^;ar  en  lo  mismo  ? 
Teo     Ay,  mala  pascua  te  venga, 

Y  romo  entiendo  tus  mniias. 

Otni  vez,  y  dir.'.s  que  e?ta 

Xo  miraste  el  ntanccbito  ? 
Bel.     Es  verdad       Tfo.   Y  lo  confiessas  ? 
Bel.    Si  me  di  >  la  niano  alii, 

No  quieres  que  lo  iigrade.sca  ? 
Teo.    Anda,  que  entrants  en  csisa. 
Bel.     0  lo  que  haras  de  (juimerasl 

Comedias  de  Loim*  de  Yega,  Tom.  XI., 
Bart-eloua,  1618,  f  27. 

The  sort  of  decorum  required  in  the 
fii-st  lines  of  this  extract  is  the  .same 
that  was  observed  by  the  charmiiif^ 
Dorothea  of  Cervantes,  and  wa.s,  no 
doubt,  looked  upon  at  the  time  as  no 
more  than  a  gentle  modesty.  "  Las 
dias  fpie  iba  a  misa  era  de  maftana  y  tan 
a('(im))aria(la  de  mi  madre  y  de  otras 
eriaiias  y  yo  tan  culiicata  y  recatada, 
<|ue  apenas  vian  mis  ojos  mas  tierm 
de  acpiella  donde  ponia  los  pies."  Don 
Qui.xote,  Parte  I.  c.  28. 


f'MAP.  XV.]  TIIK    NOCIIE    DK    JSAN    JUAN.  24lJ 

tliiin  tlie  national  poet  of  his  age ;  and  ;.s  we  have 
ahx'ady  noticed  a  phiy  fidl  of  the  spirit  of  his  youth, 
and  of  the  popnhir  character,  to  which  it  was  addressed, 
Ave  will  now  turn  to  one  no  less  buoyant  and  free,  wiiicli 
was  written  in  his  old  age  and  prepared  expressly  foi' 
a  roval  entertainment.  It  is  ''The  Saint  John's  Eve," 
and  shows  that  his  manner  was  the  same,  whether  he 
was  to  be  judged  by  the  unruly  crowds  gathered  in 
one  of  the  court-yards  of  the  capital,  or  by  a  few  ])er- 
sons  selected  from  whatever  was  most  exclusive  and 
elevated  in  the  kingdom. 

The  occasion  for  which  it  was  prepared  and  the 
arrangements  for  its  exhibition  mark,  at  once  the 
luxury  of  the  royal  theatres  in  the  reign  of  Philip  the 
Fourth,  and  the  consideration  enjoyed  by  their 
favorite  poet.'*"  The  *  drama  itself  was  ordered  *  212 
expressly  by  the  Count  Duke  Olivares,  for  a 
magnificent  entertainment  which  he  wished  to  give  his 
sovereign  in  one  of  the  gardens  of  Madrid,  on  Saint 
John's  Eve,  in  June,  1631.  No  expense  was  spared 
by  the  profligate  favorite  to  please  his  indulgent  mas- 
ter. The  Marquis  Juan  Bautista  Crescencio  —  the 
same  artist  to  whom  we  owe  the  sombre  Pantheon  of 
the    Escurial  —  arrano-ed    the    architectural    construe- 


*^  Tlie  facts  relatiiig  to  this  play  are  a  tlieatre  of  great  magnificence.     The 

taken  partly  from  the  play  itself,  (Come-  drama,  which  was  much  like  a  masijiie 

dias,  Tom.  XXI.,  Madrid,  1635,  f.  68,  of  the  English  theatre,    and  was  per- 

b, )   and  partly  from  Casiano  Pellicer,  formed  by  the  queen  and  her  ladies,  is-. 

Origen  y  Progresos  de  la  Comedia,  Ma-  in    the   Works  of  Count  Villamediana 

drid,  ISOi,  12nio,  Tom.  I.  pp.  174-191.  (Carago<;a,   1629,   4to,   pp.  1-55);  and 

The    Entrones   of    "Las   Duenas,"   by  an  account  of  the  entertainment  itself 

Benevente,  (Joco-Seria,  1653,   tf.   168-  is  given  in  Antonio  de  Mendoca  (Obras,. 

172,)  was  a  part  of  this  brilliant  festival.  Lisljoa,  1690,  4to,  pj).  426-464); — all 

A  similar  entertainment  had  been  indicating  the  most  wasteful  luxur}^  and 
given  by  his  queen  to  Philip  IV.,  on  extraviigance.  A  curious  English  ver- 
his  birthday,  in  1622,  at  the  beautiful  sion  of  Mendo(;a's  account  may  be  found 
country-seat  of  Aranjuez,  for  which  the  at  the  end  of  Sir  K.  Fanshawe's  trans- 
unfortunate  Count  of  Villamediana  fui-  lation  of  Mendo^a's  "  Querer  por  sold 
ni.shed  the  poetry,  and  Fontana,  the  <|uerer,"  1670.  See  joo5<,  note  to  Chap, 
flistinguishcd  Italian  architect,  erected  XXI. 


250  THE    XOCIIE    1)E    SA.\    ,JUA\.  [Pkiuod  11. 

tlons,  which  consisted  of  luxurious  })owors  for  the  kino;- 
and  his  courtiers,  and  a  uoioeous  theatre  in  front  of 
them,  where,  amidst  a  blaze  of  torchlight,  the  two 
most  famous  companies  of  actors  of  the  time  ])erf()rmed 
►snccessively  two  plan's :  one  written  by  the  united  tal- 
ent of  Francisco  de  Quevedo  and  Antonio  de  Mendo^'a  ; 
and  the  other,  the  crowning  grace  of  the  festival,  by 
Lope  de  Yega. 

The  subject  of  the  play  of  Lope  is  happily  taken 
from  the  frolics  of  the  very  night  on  which  it  was  rep- 
resented; —  a  night  frequently  alluded  to  in  the  old 
Spanish  stories  and  ballads,  as  one  devoted,  both  by 
Moors  and  Christians,  to  ga3'er  superstitions,  and  ad- 
ventures more  various,  than  belonged  to  any  other  of 
the  old  national  holidays.*'^  What  was  represented, 
therefore,  liad  a  pecidiar  interest,  from  its  ai)propriate- 
ness  both  as  to  time  and  place. 

Leonora,  the  heroine,  fii'st  comes  on  the  stage,  and 
confesses  her  attachment  to  Don  Juan  de  Hurtado,  a 
gentleman  who  has  recently  returned  rich  from  the 
Lidies.  She  gives  a  livel}'  sketch  of  the  way  in  which 
he  had  made  love  to  her  in  all  the  forms  of  national 
admiration,  at  chiu^ch  by  day,  and  Ijefore  her  grated 
balcony  in  the  evenings.  Don  Luis,  her  brother,  igno- 
rant of  all  this,  gladly  becomes  acquainted  with  the 
lover,  whom  he  interests  in  a  match  of  his  own  with 
Dona  Blanca,  sister  of  Bernardo,  who  is  the  cheiished 
friend  of  Don  Juan.  Eager  to  oblige  the  brother  of 
the  lady  he  loves,  Don  Juan  seeks  Bernardo, 
*21o    and,  in  the  course  of  their  conversation.  *  inge- 

*•'  Lope  liiiusfir,  ill  1(;-J4,  |iul)lislic(l  a  on  St.  Jolin'.s  Eve  in  S]iani.sh  poetry,  is 

])(j(;iM  on  the  .same  .sulijcct,  wliicii  fills  in  "Doblado's  Ijetters,"  (1822,  p.  309,) 

thiity  jiages  in  tlic  third  volume  of  his  —  a   work    full    of    tho    most   faithful 

AV'orks  ;  hut  a  d(;.s(jri[ition  of  the  frolics  sketches  of  Spanish  character  and  nian- 

of  St.  John's  Eve,  hetter  suiteil  to  ilius-  ners. 
trate  this  play  of  I -ope,  and  much  else 


CiiAi-.  XV.]      THE  NOCHE  DE  SAN  JUAN.  251 

iiiously  describes  to  him  a  visit  he  has  just  made 
to  see  all  the  arrangements  for  the  evening's  enter- 
tamment  now  in  progress  before  the  court,  including 
tliis  identical  play  of  Lope  ;  thus  whimsically  claiming 
from  the  audience  a  belief  that  the  action  they  are  wit- 
nessing on  the  stage  in  the  garden  is,  at  the  very  same 
moment,  going  on  in  real  life  in  the  streets  of  Madrid, 
just  behind  their  backs ;  —  a  passage  which,  involving, 
as  it  does,  compliments  to  the  king  and  the  Count 
Duke,  to  Quevedo  and  Mendoc^-a,  must  have  been  one 
of  the  most  brilliant  in  its  effect  that  can  be  imagined. 
But  when  Don  Juan  comes  to  explain  his  mission 
about  the  Lady  Blanca,  although  he  finds  a  most  will- 
ing consent  on  the  part  of  her  brother,  Bernardo,  he 
is  thunderstruck  at  the  suggestion,  that  this  brother, 
his  most  intimate  friend,  wishes  to  make  the  alliance 
double,  and  marry  Leonora  himself 

Now,  of  course,  begin  the  involutions  and  difficulties. 
Don  Juan's  sense  of  what  he  owes  to  his  friend  forbids 
him  from  setting  up  his  own  claim  to  Leonora,  and  he 
at  once  decides  that  nothing  remains  for  him  but  flight. 
At  the  same  time,  it  is  discovered  that  the  Lady  Blanca 
is  already  attached  to  another  person,  a  noble  cavalier, 
named  Don  Pedro,  and  will,  therefore,  never  marry 
Don  Luis,  if  she  can  avoid  it.  The  course  of  true  love, 
therefore,  runs  smooth  in  neither  case.  But  both  the 
ladies  avow  their  determination  to  remain  steadfiistly 
faithful  to  their  lovers,  though  Leonora,  from  some 
fancied  symptoms  of  coldness  in  Don  Juan,  arising  out 
of  his  over-nice  sense  of  honor,  is  in  despair  at  the 
thought  that  he  may,  after  all,  prove  false  to  her. 

So  ends  the  first  act.  The  second  opens  with  the 
Lady  Blanca's  account  of  her  own  lover,  his  condition, 
and  the  way  in  which  he  had  made  his  love  known  to 


252  THE    XOCIIE    be    sax   .WXN.  [Period  II. 

her  in  a  piiblic  garden ;  —  all  most  faithful  to  the 
national  costume.  But  just  as  she  is  readv  to  escape 
and  l)e  pri\ately  married  to  him,  her  brother,  Don 
Bernardo,  comes  in,  and  proposes  to  her  to  make  her 
first  visit  to  Leonora,  in  order  to  promote  his  own  snit. 
Meantime,  the  poor  Leonora,  quite   desperate,  rushes 

into  the  street  with  her  attendant,  and  meets 
*214     her  lovers  servant,  the  clown  and  *liar]e(|uin 

of  the  piece,  who  tells  her  that  his  master, 
nnal)le  any  longer  to  endure  his  sufferings,  is  just 
about  escaping  from  Madrid.  The  master,  Don  Juan, 
follows  in  hot  haste,  booted  for  his  journey.  The  lady 
faints.  When  she  revives,  they  come  to  ui\  under- 
standing, and  determine  to  be  married  on  the  instant ; 
so  that  Ave  have  noAv  two  private  marriages,  beset  with 
difficulties,  on  the  carpet  at  once.  But  the  streets 
are  full  of  frolicsome  crowds,  who  are  indulged  in  a 
sort  of  carnival  freedom  during  this  popular  festivaL 
Don  Juan's  rattling  servant  gets  into  a  quarrel  with 
some  gay  young  men,  who  are  imj^ertinent  to  his 
master,  and  to  the  terrified  Leonora.  Swords  are 
drawn,  and  Don  Juan  is  arrested  by  the  officers  of 
justice  and  carried  off,  —  the  lady,  in  her  fright,  taking 
refuge  in  a  house,  which  accidentally  turns  out  to  be 
that  of  Don  Pedro.  But  Don  Pedro  is  abroad,  seeking 
for  his  own  lady.  Dona  Blanca.  When  he  returns, 
however,  making  his  way  with  difficulty  through  the 
rioting  populace,  he  promises,  as  in  Castilian  honor 
bound,  to  protect  the  helpless  and  imknown  Leonora, 
whoui  he  finds  in  his  balcony  timidly  watching  the 
movements  of  the  crowd  in  the  street,  among  whom 
she  is  hoping  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  own  lover. 

In  the  last  jict  we  learn  that  Don  Juan  has  at  once, 
by  bribes,  easily  rid  liimself  of  the  officers  of  justice, 


Chap.  XV.]  THE    NOCIIE    DE    SAX    JUAN.  253 

iin<I  is  again  in  the  noisy  and  gay  streets  seeking  for 
Leonora.  He  falls  in  with  Don  Pedro,  whom  he  has 
never  seen  before  ;  but  Don  Pedro,  taking  him,  fi'om 
his  iiKpiiries,  to  l)e  the  l)rothei  from  whom  Lecjuora  is 
anxious  to  be  concealed,  carefully  avoids  betraying 
her  to  him.  UnhapjMly,  the  Lady  Blanca  now  arrives, 
having  been  j^revented  from  coming  earlier  by  the 
confusion  in  the  streets ;  and  he  hurries  her  into  his 
house  for  concealment  till  the  marriage  ceremony  can  be 
performed.  But  she  hurries  out  again  no  less  quickly, 
having  found  another  lady  alread*y^  concealed  there;  — 
a  circumstance  which  she  takes  to  be  direct  proof  of 
her  lover's  falsehood.  Leonora  follows  her,  and  begins 
an  explanation ;  but  in  the  midst  of  it,  the  two 
brothers,  who  had  Ijeen  seeking  these  same 
missing  sisters,  come  suddenly  in;  *a  scene  of  *  215 
great  confusion  and  mutual  reproaches  ensues ; 
and  then  the  curtain  falls  with  a  recognition  of  all  the 
mistakes  and  attachments,  and  the  full  happiness  of  the 
two  ladies  and  their  two  lovers.  At  the  end,  the  poet, 
in  his  own  person,  declares,  that,  if  his  art  permits  him 
to  extend  his  action  over  twenty-four  hours,  he  has,  in 
the  present  case,  kept  within  its  rules,  since  he  has 
occupied  less  than  ten. 

As  a  specimen  of  plays  fomided,  on  Spanish  manners, 
few  are  happier  than  "  The  Saint  John's  Eve."  The 
love-scenes,  all  honor  and  passion ;  the  scenes  between 
the  cavaliers  and  the  populace,  at  once  rude  and  gay; 
and  the  scenes  with  the  free-spoken  servant  who  plays 
the  wit,  —  are  almost  all  excellent,  and  instinct  with 
the  national  character.  It  was  received  with  the  great- 
est applause,  and  constituted  the  finale  of  the  Count 
Duke's  magnificent  entertainment,  which,  w'ith  its  mu- 
sic and  dances,  interludes  and  refreshments,  occupied 


2-54  THE    iJOlJA    I'AKA    LOS    OTIiOS.  [PKUir.D  11. 

the  whole  night,  from  nme  o'cloek  in  the  evenmg  till 
daylight  the  next  morning,  when  the  royal  party 
vswept  hack  Avith  great  pomp  and  ceremon}^  to  the  pal- 
ace ; —  the  stately  form  of  Olivarez,  such  as  we  see 
him  in  the  pictures  of  \"elazfj[uez,  following  the  king's 
coach  in  place  of  the  accustomed  servant. 

Another  of  the  plaA's  of  Lope,  and  one  that  belongs 
to  the  division  of  the  Capa  y  Ei<pada,  but  approaches 
that  of  the  heroic  drama,  is  his  '•  Fool  for  Others  and 
Wise  for  Herself."'*^  It  is  of  a  lighter  and  livelier 
temper  throughout  tlmn  most  of  its  class.  Diana,  edu- 
cated in  the  simple  estate  of  a  shepherdess,  and  wholly 
ignorant  that  she  is  the  daughter  and  heir  of  the  Duke 
of  Urbino,  is  suddenly  called,  l)y  the  death  of  her  fa- 
ther, to  fill  his  place.  She  is  surrounded  b}'  intriguing 
enemies,  but  triumphs  over  them  by  affecting  a  rustic 
simplicity  in  whatever  she  says  and  does,  while,  at  the 
same  time,  she  is  manairino:  all  around   her.  and   carrv- 

■CO  *. 

ino;  on  a  love-intrifj-ue  with  the  Duke  Alexander  Far- 

nese.  which  ends  in  her  marriage  Avith  him. 
*  21G  *^  The  jest  of  the  piece  lies  in  the  wit  she  is 
able  to  conceal  under  her  seeming  rusticity. 
For  instance,  at  the  very  ()})ening,  after  she  has  been 
secretly  informed  of  the  true  state  of  things,  and  has 
determined  what  course  to  pursue,  the  ambassadors 
from  Urbino  come  in  and  tell  her,  with  a  solemnity 
suited  to  the  occasion  :  — 

Lady,  our  sovereign  lonl,  the  Duke,  is  dead  ! 

To  which  she  replies :  — 

What  's  that  to  me  ?     But  if  't  is  surely  so, 
Why  then,  sirs,  't  is  for  you  to  bury  hira. 
I  'm  not  the  parish  curate*^ 

**  Comedias,    Tom.    XXL,    Madrid,  EnterraUle,  Settorcs, 

1  fi3.5     f.    45    ete.  ^^^  >"  ""  ^°'  *'  ^ar». 
«   Cdmilo.     SeHora,  ol  Diique  CK  murrto.  CoiiieJixs  Tom.  XXI.. 

Ditinn.       I'iii>»  fini'  w  im;  .In  ;'•  mi  '  j.i-ro  Hi  Madrid,  16.3.">,  f.  47. 


C'liAP.  XV.J  VAlMOrs    PLAYS.  255 

This  tone  is  maintained  to  the  end,  whenever  the 
heroine  appears  ;  and  it  gives  Lope  an  opportunity  to 
bring  forth  a  great  deal  of  the  fluent,  Ught  wit  of 
which  he  had  such   ample  store. 

Little  like  all  we  have  yet  noticed,  but  still  belong- 
ing to  the  same  class,  is  "  The  lieward  of  Speaking 
Well,"  ^"^  —  a  charming  play,  in  which  the  accounts  of 
the  hero's  birth  and  early  condition  are  so  absolutely 
;i  description  of  his  own  that  it  can  hardly  be  doubted 
that  Lope  intended  to  draw  the  character  in  some  de- 
gree from  himself  Don  Juan,  who  is  the  hero,  is 
standing  with  some  idle  gallants  near  a  church  in 
Seville,  to  see  the  ladies  come  out ;  and,  while  there, 
defends,  though  he  does  not  know  her,  one  of  them 
who  is  lightly  spoken  of  A  quarrel  ensues.  He 
wounds  his  adversary,  is  pursued,  and  chances  to  take 
refuge  in  the  house  of  the  very  lady  whose  honor  he 
had  so  gallantly  maintained  a  few  moments  before. 
She  from  gratitude  secretes  him,  and  the  play  ends 
with  a  wedding,  though  not  until  there  has  been  a  per- 
fect confusion  of  plots  and  counterplots,  intrigues  and 
concealments,  such  as  so  often  go  to  make  up  the  three 
acts  of  Lope's  dramas. 

Man}^  other  plays  might  be  added  to  these,  showing, 
by  the  diversity  of  their  tone  and  character, 
how  diverse  *  were  the  gifts  of  the  extraordi-  *  217 
nary  man  Avho  invented  them,  and  filled  them 
with  various  and  easy  verse.  Among  them  are  "  Por 
la  Puente  Juana,"  *'  "EI  Anzuelo  de  Fenisa,"**^  "El 
Ruysefior    de    Sevilla";*'     "  Porfiar    hasta    Morir,"^ 

*^  Comedias,    Tom.    XXI.,    Madrid,  1617,  and  often  printed  separately;   a 

1635,  f.   158,   etc.  jilay   remarkable    for    its    gayety   and 

*''  Comedias,    Tom.    XXI.,    Madrid,  .spirit. 

1635,  f.  243,  etc.     It  has  often   been  «  Comedias,  Tom.    XVII.,   Madrid, 

jninted   separately;    once   in    London.  1621,  f.  187,  etc. 

The  title  is  tlie  first  lini' of  an  old  liallad.  ^j  ('omedias,  Tom.   XXIII. ,   Madrid, 

*8  Comedias,    Tom.    Vlll.,    Madrid,  1638,  f.  96,  etc. 


256 


VAKIOU.S    I 'LA  VS. 


[Period  II. 


which  last  is  on  the  story  of  Macias  el  Enamorado. 
always  a  favorite  with  the  old  Spanish  and  Provenc^al 
poets  ;  and  the  '•  Bizarrias  de  Belisa,"  a  gay  comedy, 
which  is  interesting  from  the  circumstance  that  it  was 
finished  in  1684,  when  he  was  nearly  seventy-two  years 
old.  But  it  is  neither  needful  nor  possible  to  go  fur- 
ther.    Enouo'h  has  been  said  to  show  the  o-eneral  char- 

o  o 

acter  of  their  class,  and  we  therefore  now  turn  tO' 
another.^^ 


^1  From  the  Spanish  translation  of 
this  History,  (Tom.  II.  p.  551,)  I  col- 
lect tlie  ibllowing  dates  of  a  few  plays 
of  Lope  on  the  authority  of  his  own 
autographs  :  — 

Prueba  de  los  Amigos,  12th  Septem- 
ber, 1604". 

Carlos  V.  en  Francia,  20th  Novem- 
ber, 1604. 

Batalla  del  Honor,  18th  Apiil,  1608. 

Encomienda  mal  guardada,  19th 
April,   1610. 

Lo  que  ha  de  ser,  2d  September, 
1624. 


Competencia  en  los  Xobles,  16th  No- 
vember, 1625. 

Sin  Secreto  no  liav  Amor,  ISth  Jul  v. 
1626. 

Bizarrias  de  Belisa,  24th  May,  1634. 

1  can  add  to  these  from  my  own  col- 
lection :  — 

Castigo  sin  Venganza,  1st  August, 
1631. 

See,  also,  Salva  y  Baranda,  Documen- 
tos  Ineditos,  Tom.  I.,  and  Chorley's 
Catalogue,  already  referred  to. 


*  CHAPTER    XVI.  *218 

LOPE     DE    VEGA,    COXTIXrEn.  —  HIS     HEROIC     DRAMA,    AND     ITS     CHARACTERIS- 
TICS.  GREAT    NUMRER    ON    SIB.IECTS    FROM    SPANISH    HISTORY,    AND    SOME 

ON    CONTEMPORARY    EVENTS. 

The  drfimas  of  Lope  cle  Vega  that  belong  to  the 
next  class  were  called  "  Comedias  Heroicas,"  or  "  Co- 
medias  Historiales,"  —  Heroic  or  Historical  Dramas. 
The  chief  differences  between  these  and  the  last 
are,  that  they  bring  on  the  stage  personages  in  a 
higher  rank  of  life,  such  as  kings  and  princes ;  that 
they  generally  have  an  historical  foundation,  or  at  least 
use  historical  names,  as  if  claiming  it ;  and  that  their 
prevailing  tone  is  grave,  imposing,  and  even  tragical. 
They  have,  however,  in  general,  the  same  involved,  in- 
triguing stories  and  underplots,  the  same  play  of  jeal- 
ousy and  an  over-sensitive  honor,  and  the  same  low, 
comic  caricatures  to  relieve  their  serious  parts,  that  are 
found  in  the  dramas  of  "  the  Cloak  and  Sword."  Philip 
the  Second  disapproved  of  this  class  of  plays,  thinking 
they  tended  to  diminish  the  royal  dignity,  —  a  circum- 
stance which  shows  at  once  the  state  of  manners  at  the 
time,  and  the  influence  attributed  to  the  theatre.^ 

Lope  wrote  a  very  large  number  of  plays  in  the 
forms  of  the  heroic  drama,  which  he  substantially  in- 
vented, —  perhaps  as  many  as  he  wrote  in  an}^  other 
class.  Everything  historical  seemed,  indeed,  to  furnish 
him  with  a  subject,  from  the    earliest  annals    of  the 

^  Lope  de  Vega,  Obras  Suelta.s,  Tom.  se  introduce  Key  o  Senor   soberano  es 

IV.  p.  410.     Such  plays  were  al.so  some-  Tragedia."      See   Lagrimas  Panegiricas 

times  called  tragedies.     "Aquelladonde  de  Montalvan,  1639,  f.  150,  b. 
\oh.   11.                                17 


258  CO-MEDIAS    IIKUOICAS.  [Pekiud  II. 

world  down  to  the  events  of  liis  own  time ; 
*211)  but  his  fa  "orite  materials  *  were  souo-ht  in 
Greek  and  Roman  records,  and  especially  in  the 
<  Inonicles  and  ballads  of  Spain  itself 

Of  the  manner  in  which  he  dealt  witli  ancient  his- 
tory, his  '•Roma  Abrasada,"  or  Rome  in  Ashes,  ma}' 
be  taken  as  a  specimen,  though  certainly  one  of  the 
least  favoral^le  specimens  of  the  class  to  which  it  be- 
lono-s.^  The  facts  on  which  it  is  foinided  are  gathered 
from  the  commonest  sources  open  to  its  author,— 
chietiy  from  the  "  General  Chronicle  of  Spain  "  ;  but 
they  are  not  formed  into  a  well-constructed  or  even 
ingenious  plot;'  and  they  relate  to  the  whole  twenty 
years- that  elapsed  between  the  death  of  Messalina, 
the  reign  of  Claudius,  and  the  death  of  Nero  himself, 
who  is  not  only  the  hero,  )3ut  sometimes  the  (jraciom, 
or  droll,  of  the  piece. 

The  first  act,  which  comes  down  to  the  murder  of 
Claudius  by  Nero  and  Agrippina,  contains  the  old  jest 
of  the  Emperor  asking  why  his  wife  does  not  come  to 
dinner,  after  he  had  put  her  to  death,  and  adds,  for 
equally  popular  effect,  abundant  praises  of  Spain  and 
of  Lucan  and  Seneca,  claiming  both  oi'  them  to  be 
Spaniards,  and  making  the  latter  an  astrologer,  as  well 
as  a  moralist.  The  second  act  shows  Nero  beginning 
his  reign  with  great  gentleness,  and  follows  Suetonius 
and  the  old  Chronicle  in  makins;  him  o-rieve  that  he 
knew  how  to  write,  since  otherwise  he  could  not  have 
been  required  to  sign  an  order  for  a  just  judicial  exe- 
cution.    The   subsequent   violent   change   in   his   con- 

2  Comedias, Tom.  XX.,  Madrid,  ltj'29,  111,)  witli  tlie  c<»nx's])oiidinf,'  iiassa<,'('.s 

fr.  177,  <'tc.     It  is  entitled   '^  Tnifjedia  in  tlie  "  Konia  Abnv.sada. "      In  one  ]ias- 

Fainosa."  sage  of  Act   III.,    Lojie  u.ses  a  ballad, 

^  It  is  worth  while  to  compare  Sue-  the  lirst  lines  of  which  occur  in  the 

tonius,   (Books  V.   and  VI.,)   and  the  lii-st  act  of  the  "Celestina." 
"  Croniia  (Jeneral,"  (Parte  I.  c.  110  and 


l-'iiAi'.   XVI.]  THE    i;OMA    AURAS  ADA.  259 

duct  is  11(^1.  however,  in  any  way  explained  or  ac- 
counted lor.  It  is  simply  set  before  the  spectators 
as  a  fact,  and  IVoui  this  moment  beg-ins  the  headlong: 
career  of  his  guilt. 

A  curious  scene,  purely  Spanish,  is  one  of  the  early 
intimations  of  this  change  of  character.  Nero  falls  in 
love  with  Eta  ;  but  not  at  all  in  the  Roman  fashion. 
He  visits  her  by  night  at  her  window,  sings  a  sonnet 
to  her,  is  interrupted  by  four  men  in  disguise,  kills  one 
of  them,  and  escapes  from  the  ])ursuit  of  his 
own  officers  of  justice  *  with  difficulty  ;  all,  as  *  1^20 
if  he  were  a  wandering  knight  so  fair  of  the 
time  of  Philip  the  Third.*  The  more  historical  love 
for  PoppjBa  follows,  with  a  shocking  interview  between 
Nero  and  his  mother,  in  consequence  of  which  he  or- 
ders her  to  be  at  once  put  to  death.  The  execution 
of  this  order,  with  the  horrid  exposure  of  her  jierson 
afterwards,  ends  the  act,  which,  gross  as  it  is,  does  not 
sink  to  the  revolting  atrocities  of  the  old  Chronicle 
from  which  it  is  chiefly  taken. 

The  third  act  is  so  arranged  as  partly  to  gratify  the 
national  vanity  and  partly  to  conciliate  the  influence 
of  the  Church,  of  which  Lope,  like  his  contemporaries, 
always  stood  in  awe.  Several  devout  Christians,  there- 
fore, are  now  introduced,  and  we  have  an  edifying 
confession  of  faith,  embracing  the  history  of  the  world 
from  the  creation  to  the  crucifixion,  with  an  account 
of  what  the  Spanish  historians  regard  as  the  first  of 
the  twelve  persecutions.  The  deaths  of  Seneca  and 
Lncan  follow ;  and  then  the  conflagration  of  Rome, 
which,  as  it  constitutes  the  show  part  of  the  play,  and 
is  relied   on  for  the  stage  effect  it  would  produce,  is 

■^  This  scene  is  in  the  second  act,  ;ind  forms  that  part  of  the  ])hiy  where  Nero 
eiia<;ts  the  (jracioso. 


2G0  THE    PKIXCIPE    PEKFETO.  [Pki:iud  II. 

brought  in  near  the  end.  out  of  the  proper  order  of  the 
storv,  and  after  the  buihling  of  Nero's  luxurious  palace, 
the  '' aurea  domus,"  which  was  realh' constructed  in 
the  desert  the  fire  had  left.  The  audience,  meantime, 
have  been  put  in  good-humor  b}'  a  scene  in  Spain, 
where  a  conspiracy  is  on  foot  to  overthrow  the  Em- 
peror s  power ;  and  the  drama  concludes  with  the 
death  of  Poppa^a,  —  again  less  gross  than  the  account 
of  it  in  the  Chronicle,  —  with  Nero's  own  death,  and 
with  the  proclamation  of  Galba  as  his  successor;  all 
crowded  into  a  space  disproportionately  small  for  in- 
cidents so  important. 

But  it  was  not  often  that  Lope  wrote  so  ill  or  so 
grossh".  On  modern,  and  especially  on  national  sub- 
jects, he  is  almost  always  more  fortunate,  and  some- 
times becomes  powerful  and  imposing.  Among  these, 
as  a  characteristic,  though  not  as  a  remarkabh'  favor- 
able, specimen  of  his  success,  is  to  be  placed  the 
*221  '-Principe  Perfeto,"  ^  *in  which  he  intends  to 
give  his  idea  of  a  perfect  prince  mider  the 
character  of  Don  John  of  Portugal,  son  of  iVlfonso  the 
Fifth  and  contemporary  with  Ferdinand  and  Isabella, 
a  full-length  portrait  of  whom,  by  his  friend  and  con- 
fidant, is  drawn  in  the  opening  of  the  second  act,  with 
a  minuteness  of  detail  that  leaves  no  doubt  as  to  the 
qualities  for  which  princes  w^ere  valued  in  the  age  of 
the  Philips,  if  not  those  for  which  the}-  would  be 
valued  now. 

Elsewhere  in  the  piece,  Don  John  is  represented  to 
have  fought  Ijravely  in  the  disastrous  battle  of  Toro, 
and  to  have  voluntarily  restored  the  throne  to  his 
father,  who  had  once  abdicated  in  his  favor  and  had 
afterwards  reclaimed   the    supreme    power.     Personal 

6  Comedias,  Tom.  XI.,  Barcelona,  1618,  ft.  121,  etc. 


CnAr.  XVI.]  THE    PKINCIPE    TEKFETO.  261 

coiinige  and  strict  justice,  however,  are  the  attribiite^^ 
most  relied  on  to  exhibit  him  as  a  perfect  prince.  Of 
the  former  he  gives  })roof  hy  kilUng  a  man  in  sell- 
defence,  and  entering  into  a  bull-fight  under  the  most 
perilous  circumstances.  Of  the  latter  —  his  lo\e  of 
justice  —  many  instances  are  brought  on  the  stage, 
and,  among  the  ]:est,  his  protection  of  Columbus,  after 
the  return  of  that  great  navigator  from  xYmerica, 
thouo-h  aware  how  much  his  discoveries  had  redounded 
to  the  honor  of  a  rival  country,  and  how  great  had 
been  his  own  error  in  not  obtaining  the  benefit  of 
them  for  Portugal.  But  the  most  prominent  of  these 
instances  of  justice  relates  to  a  private  and  personal 
history,  and  forms  the  main  subject  of  the  drama.  It 
is  as  follows. 

Don  Juan  de  Sosa,  the  king's  favorite,  is  twice  sent 
by  him  to  Spain  on  embassies  of  consequence,  and, 
while  residing  there,  lives  in  the  family  of  a  gentleman 
connected  with  him  by  blood,  to  whose  daughter, 
Leonora,  he  makes  love,  and  wins  her  affections.  Each 
time  when  Don  Juan  returns  to  Portugal,  he  forgets 
his  plighted  faith  and  leaves  the  lady  to  languish.  At 
last,  she  comes  with  her  father  to  Lisbon  in  the  train 
of  the  Spanish  princess,  Isabella,  now  married  to  the 
kin.q-'s  son.      But  even  there  the  false   knio-ht 

O  <D 

refuses  to  recognize  his  *  obligations.  In  her  *  222 
despair,  she  presents  herself  to  the  king,  and 
explains  her  position  in  the  following  conversation, 
which  is  a  favorable  specimen  of  the  easy  narrative  in 
which  resides  so  much  of  the  charm  of  Lope's  drama. 
A-S  Leonora  enters,  she  exclaims  :  — 

Prince,  whom  in  peace  and  war  men  perfect  call, 

Listen  a  woman's  cry  ! 
King.  Begin  ;  —  I  hear 

Leonora.   Fadrique  —  he  of  ancient  Lara's  house, 


2G2  THE    ritlNClPE    PEKFETO,  [Pekiuu  II. 

And  goveiTior  of  Seville  —  is  my  sire. 
King.        Pause  tlieve,  and  pardon  first  the  courtesy 

That  owes  a  deb;  to  thy  name  and  to  his, 

Which  ignorance  alone  could  fail  to  pay. 
Lemiora.  Such  condescending  gentleness,  my  lord, 

Is  worthy  of  the  wisdom  and  the  wit 

"Whicli  through  the  world  are  blazoned  and  admired.  — 

But  to  my  tale.     Twice  came  there  to  Castile 

A  knight  from  this  thy  land,  whose  name  I  hide 

Till  all  his  frauds  are  manifest.     For  thou. 

My  lord,  dost  love  him  in  such  wise,  that,  wert 

Thou  other  than  thou  art,  my  true  complaints 

Would  f'  ..r  to  seek  a  justice  they  in  vain 

Would  strive  to  find.     Each  time  within  our  house 

He  dwelt  a  guest,  and  from  the  very  first 

He  sought  my  love. 
King-  Speak  on,  and  let  not  .shame 

Oppress  thy  words  ;  for  to  the  judge  and  priest 

Alike  confession's  voice  should  boldly  come. 
Leonora.  I  was  deceived.     He  went  and  left  me  sad 

To  mourn  his  absence ;  for  of  them  he  is 

Who  leave  behind  their  knightly,  nobler  parts, 

When  they  themselves  are  long  since  fled  and  gone. 

Again  he  came,  his  voice  more  sweetly  tuned. 

More  siren  dike,  than  ever.     I  heard  the  voice. 

Nor  knew  its  hidden  fraud.     0,  would  that  Heaven 

Had  made  us,  in  its  highest  justice,  deaf. 

Since  tongues  so  false  it  gave  to  men  !     He  lured, 

He  lured  me  as  the  fowler  lures  the  bird 

In  snares  and  meshes  hid  beneath  the  gra.ss. 

I  straggled,  but  in  vain  ;  for  Love,  heaven's  child. 

Has  power  the  mightiest  fortress  to  subdue. 

He  pledg(Hl  his  knightly  word,  —  in  writing  pledged  it, 

Trusting  that  afterwards,  in  Portugal, 

The  debt  and  all  might  safely  be  denied  ;  — 

As  if  the  heavens  were  narrower  than  the  earth, 

And  ju.stice  not  supreme.     In  short,  my  lord. 

He  went  ;  and,  proud  and  vain,  the  banners  bore 
*  223  *  That  my  submission  marked,  not  my  defeat ; 

For  where  love  is,  there  comes  no  victory. 

His  spoils  he  carried  to  his  native  land. 

As  if  they  had  been  torn  in  heathen  war 

From  Africa  ;  such  as  in  Arcila, 

In  earliest  youth,  thyself  with  glory  won  ; 

Or  such  as  now,  from  .shores  remote,  thy  .ships 

Bring  home,  —  tlark  slaves,  to  darker  slavery. 

Xo  written  word  of  his  came  back  to  me. 

My  honor  wept  its  obserpiies,  and  built  its  tomb 

With  Love's  extingui.shed  torches.     Soon,  tlie  prince. 


Chap.  XV J.] 


Tin;  i'i;iN(  ii'E  tekfeto. 


^60 


Tliy  son,  was  wed  witli  our  Infanta  fair,  — 
God  grant  it  for  a  blessing  to  botli  realms  !  — 
And  with  her,  as  ambassador,  my  sire 
To  Lisbon  eame,  and  I  with  him.      But  here  — 
Even  here  —  his  promises  that  knight  denies. 
And  so  disheartens  and  despises  me. 
That,  if  your  Grace  no  remedy  can  find, 
The  end  of  all  must  be  the  end  of  life,  — 
So  heavy  is  my  misery. 

Kiiuj.  That  scroll  ? 

Thou  hast  it  ? 

Leonora.  Surely.     Jt  were  an  error 

Not  to  be  lepaired,  if  I  had  lost  it. 

King.        It  cannot  be  but  I  should  know  the  hand, 
If  he  who  wrote  it  in  my  household  serve. 

Leonorn.  This  is  the  scroll,  my  lord. 

King.  And  John  de  Sosa's  is 

The  signature  !     But  yet,  unless  mine  eyes 
Had  seen  and  recognized  his  very  hand, 
I  never  had  believed  the  tale  thou  bring' st ;  — 
So  liighlv  deem  I  of  his  faithfulness.** 


'  D.  Lto.  Principe,  qii".  en  paz,  y  en  guerra, 
Te  Jlama  perfeto  el  mundo, 
Oye  una  muger  '■     Rey.  Comienija. 

D.  Leo.  Del  gobernador  Fadrique 

De  Lara  soy  hija.     Rey.  Espera. 
I'erdona  al  no  conocerte 
La  cortesia,  que  es  deuda 
Digna  4  tu  padre  y  4  ti. 

D.  Leo.  Essa  es  gala  y  gentileza 

Digna  de  tu  ingenio  claro, 

Que  el  mundo  admira  y  celebra.  — 

Por  dos  vezes  i  ("astilla 

Fue  un  fidalgo  desta  tierra, — 

Que  quiero  encubrir  el  nonibre, 

Ilasta  que  su  engaiio  sepas  ; 

Porque  le  qiueres  de  modo, 

Que  teniiera^e  mis  quexas 

Xo  hallanin  justioia  en  ti, 

Si  otro  que  tu  mi<mo  fueras. 

Poso  entrambas  en  mi  casa  ; 

.'*olicito  la  primera 

Mi  Toluntad.     He;/.  Di  ailelante, 

Y  no  te  oprima  verguenga, 

Que  tambien  con  los  juezes 

Las  persouas  se  confiessan. 

D.  Leo.  Agradeci  .«ius  enganos. 

Partiose ;  llore  su  ausencia  ; 

Que  las  partes  deste  hidalgo, 

Quando  pI  se  parte,  ellas  quedan. 

BoUiio  otra  rez,  y  boluio 

Mav  dulcemente  .«irena 

Con  la  voz  no  vi  el  engano. 

Ay,  Dios  I  Seiior,  si  nacieran 

L;is  mugeres  sin  oydos, 

Ya  que  los  hombres  con  lenguafi. 

Llamome  al  fin,  como  suele 

A  la  perdiz  la  cautcla 

Di'l  laoador  engaiioso, 

Las  redes  entre  la  yerua. 

Rcsistime  :  mas  que  importa, 

Si  la  mayor  fortaleza 

Xo  contradize  el  amor, 

Que  es  hijo  de  las  estrellas? 

Una  cedilla  me  hizo 

De  s<?r  mi  marido,  y  esta 


Deuio  de  ser  con  intcnto 
De  no  conocer  la  deuda, 
En  estando  en  Portugal, 
Como  si  el  cielo  no  fuera 
Cielo  sobre  todo  el  mundo, 

Y  su  justicia  suprema. 
Al  fin,  Seiior,  el  se  fue, 
Ufano  con  las  banderas 
De  una  muger  ya  rendida  ; 

Que  donde  hay  amor,  no  hay  fuer^a. 

Despojos  traxo  a  su  patria, 

Como  si  de  Africa  fueran, 

Dc  los  Moros,  que  en  Arcila 

Venciste  en  tu  edad  primera, 

O  de  los  remotos  mares, 

De  cuyas  blancas  arenas 

Te  traen  negros  esclauos 

Tus  armadas  Portuguesas. 

Nunca  mas  vi  letra  suya. 

Lloro  mi  amor  sus  obse<juias, 

Hize  el  tumulo  del  llanto, 

Y  de  amor  las  hachas  muertas. 
t'aso  el  Princii)e  tu  hijo 

Con  nuestra  Infanta,  que  sea 
Para  bien  de  entrambos  reynos. 
Vino  mi  padre  con  ella. 
Vine  con  el  a  Lisboa, 
Donde  este  fidalgo  niega 
Tan  justas  obligaciones, 

Y  de  suerte  me  desprecia. 
Que  me  ha  de  quitar  la  vida, 
Si  tu  Alteza  no  remedia 

De  una  muger  la  desdicha. 
Key.        Viuelacedula?     D.  L^n.  Fuera 

Error  no  aucria  guardado. 
Rfy.         Yo  conocere  la  letra. 

Si  es  criado  de  mi  casa 
D.  Leo.  Seiior,  la  cedula  es  esta. 
Hey.         Ia  firma  dize,  Don  .Tuan 

De  So.sa  I     No  lo  creyera, 

A  no  conocer  la  firma, 

De  su  virtud  y  prudencia. 
Comedias  de  Lope  de  Vega,  Tom.  XI.» 
Biircelona,  ltJ18,  ff.  143,  144. 


*2C»4  THE    XrEVO    MUXDO.  [Period  II. 

*  224     *  The  dcnonemeni  naturally  consists  in  the  mar- 

riage, which  is  thus  made  a  record  of  the  king's 
perfect  justice. 

Columbus,  as  we  have  intimated,  appears  in  this 
piece.  He  is  introduced  with  little  skill,  but  the 
dignity  of  his  pretensions  is  not  forgotten.  In  another 
drama,  devoted  to  the  discovery  of  America,  and 
called  "'The  New  World  of  Columbus,"  his  character  is 
further  and  more  trulj'  developed.  The  play  itself 
embraces  the  events  of  the  great  Admiral's  life  be- 
tween his  first  vain  effort  to  obtain  countenance  in 
Portugal  and  his  triumphant  presentation  of  the  spoils 
of  the  New  World  to  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  at  Barce- 
lona, —--  a  period  amounting  to  about  fourteen  years." 
It  is  one  of  Lope's  more  wild  and  extravagant  at- 
tempts, but  it  is  not  witliout  marks  of  his  peculiar 
talent,  and  it  fully  embodies  the  national  feeling  in 
regard  to  America,  as  a  world  rescued  from  heathenism. 
Some  of  its  scenes  are  laid  in  Portugal ;  others  on  the 
plain  of  Granada,  at  the  moment  of  its  fall ;  others  in 
the  caravel  of  Columbus  durintr  the  mutinv  ;  and  vet 
others  in  the  West  Indies,  and  before  his  sovereigns 
on  his  return  home.  • 

*  225         *  Among    the    personages,  besides    such    as 

might  be  reasonably  anticipated  from  the 
course  of  the  story,  are  Gonzalvo  de  Cordova,  sundry 
Moors,  several  American  Indians,  and  several  spiritual 
beings,  such  as  Providence,  Christianity,  and  Idolatry  ; 

This  ]>a-ssaf;e  is  near  the  end  of  the  "^  C'oine<lias,  Tom.  IV.,  Madnil,  1614; 

j»iew,  and  leads  to  the  (Unoneme.nl  by  and   also  in  the  Ajipendix  to  Ochoa's 

one  of  tho.se  flowing  nanativi's,  like  an  "  Teatro   Escogido  de   Lojie  de   Vega" 

Italian  novella,  to  wliicli  Lope  frecjncut-  (Paris,  1838,  8va).     Fernando  de  Zarate 

ly  le.sorts,  when  the  intriguing  faljjc  of  took  .some  of  the  materials  for  his  "Con- 

the  diama  hits  In-en   carried  far  enougli  fiuista  tie   ile.xieo,"   (Comedias   i'-seogi- 

to    fill    up    the    three    luistomary   acts.  ila.s,  Tom.  XXX.,    Ma<lrid,  1668,)  such 

Arcila,    refeired    to    in    th(^    text    with  a.s  the  opening  of  Jornada  II.,  from  this 

skill,    was   taken    from    th<-    .Moors  the  I>liiy  <jf  I-ope  tie  Vega. 
24th  of  .\ugu.s1,    1471. 


TiiAi'.   XVI.]  TIIK    NUEVO    MUNDO.  2(j5 

the  liLst  of  whom  strii<ji:<i:les  with  i»;reat  vehemence,  at 
the  tribunal  of  Providence,  against  the  introduction 
of  the  Spaniards  and  their  religion  into  the  New 
World,  and  in  passages  like  the  following  seems  in 
danger  of  having  the  best  of  the  argument. 

O  Pi-ovi(l(>iice  Divine,  permit  them  not 
To  do  me  tliis  most  plain  unrighteousness  ! 
"I'  is  hut  base  avaiice  that  spxirs  them  on. 
Keligion  is  the  cohjr  and  tiie  i-loak  ; 
But  goLl  and  silvei-,  hid  within  the  eartli, 
Are  all  they  truly  seek  and  strive  to  win." 

The  greater  part  of  the  action  and  the  best  portions 
of  it  pass  in  the  New  World  ;  but  it  is  difficult  to  ima- 
gine anything  more  extravagant  than  the  whole  fable. 
Dramatic  propriety  is  constantly  set  at  naught.  The 
Indians,  before  the  appearance  of  Europeans  among 
them,  sing  about  Phcjebus  and  Diana  ;  and  while,  from 
the  first,  they  talk  nothing  but  Spanish,  they  frequent- 
ly pretend,  after  the  arrival  of  the  Spaniards,  to  be  un- 
able to  understand  a  word  of  their  lana-uaire.  The 
scene  in  which  Idolatr^^  pleads  its  cause  against  Chris- 
tianity before  Divine  Providence,  the  scenes  with  the 
Demon,  and  those  touching  the  conversion  of  the  hea- 
then, might  have  been  presented  in  the  rudest  of  the 
old  Moralities.  Those,  on  the  contrary,  in  which  the 
natural  feelings  and  jealousies  of  the  simj3le  and  igno- 
rant natives  are  brought  out,  and  those  in  which  Co- 
lumbus appears,  —  always  dignified  and  gentle,  —  are 
not  without  merit.  Few,  however,  can  be  said  to  be 
truly  good  or  poetical ;  and  yet  a  poetical  interest  is. 
kept  up  through  the  worst  of  them,  and  the  story 
they  involve  is  followed  to  the  end  with  a  living  cu- 
riosity. 

8  No  permitas,  Providencia,  So  color  de  rolipion.' 

Hacerme  esta  sinjusticia  ;  Tan  ,i  husrar  plata  y  oro 

Pues  los  lleua  la  codicia  Del  cnciibii"-to  t<>soro. 
A  hacer  esta  diligencia.  ^,  ^^^^^  ^^^^^  ^  j^^^_  j_ 


2tJG  THE    CAST1G(^' .SIX    VENGAN/A.  [Pkuioi.  11. 

The  common  traditions  are  repeated,  that 
*  22G  Colmnbus  *  was  Ijorii  at  Nervi,  and  that  he  i-e- 
ceived  from  a  dying  pilot  at  Madeira  the  charts 
that  led  Mm  to  his  grand  adventure  ;  but  it  is  singu- 
lar, that,  in  contradiction  to  all  this,  Lope,  in  other 
parts  of  the  play,  should  have  hazarded  the  suggestion, 
that  Columbus  was  moved  by  Divine  inspiration.  The 
friar,  in  the  scene  of  the  mutiny,  declares  it  expressly  ; 
and  Colum])us  himself,  in  his  discourse  with  his  brother 
Bartholomew,  when  their  foi'tunes  seemed  all  but  des- 
perate, i^lainly  alludes  to  it,  when  he  says:  — 

A  hidden  Deity  still  drives  ine  on, 

Bidding  me  trust  the  truth  of  wlmt  I  feel, 

And,  if  I  watch,  or  if  I  sleep,  inqiels 

The  strong  will  holdly  to  work  out  its  way. 

But  what  is  this  that  thus  possesses  nw  '. 

"What  spirit  is  it  drives  me  onwaid  thus  ? 

Where  am  I  borne  ?     What  is  the  road  I  take  ? 

What  track  of  destinj-  is  this  I  tread  ? 

And  what  the  impulse  that  I  blindly  follow  ? 

Am  I  not  poor,  unknown,  a  broken  man, 

Dei)ending  on  the  pilot's  anxious  trade  ? 

And  shall  I  venture  on  the  mighty  task 

Ti.  add  a  distant  world  to  this  we  know  ?» 

The  conception  of  the  character  in  this  particular  is 
good,  and,  being  foinided,  as  we  know  it  was,  on  the 
2:)ersonal  convictions  of  Columbus-  himself,  might  have 
been  followed  out  by  further  developments  with  poet- 
ical effect.  But  the  opportunity  is  neglected,  and.  like 
many  other  occasions  for  success,  is  thrown  away  by 
Lope,  through  haste  and  carelessness. 

Another  of  the  dramas  of  this  class,  '"■  El  Castigo  sin 
Venganza,"  or  "Punishment,  not  Revenge,"  is  impor- 

9  Una  serrfita  deiduil  Que  derrota,  que  destino 

A  qiip  lo  intcntc  nie  iinpele,  Sigo,  <>  me  conduce  aqui  ? 

Diciendoiiii'  qui-  es  verdiid,  Un  homhre  imbre,  y  auu  roto, 

Que  en  fin,  i(Ue  duemia  6  que  vele,  Que  ansi  lo  puedo  decir, 

Persi>jue  r  i  volutit^ul.  Y  que  vive  de  jyloto, 

Que  e*es*ii  que  li!'.  entrado  en  mi  ?  Quiere  A  este  mundo  nfiadir 

Quien  uie  llevi  ■'  uiuevo  ans'i  ?  Otro  uiundn  tan  reniotn  ! 
Donde  voj  ,  donde  camino  ?  El  Xuevo  Mundo,  Jorn.  I. 


Chap.  XYL]  THE    CASTIGO    SIN    YENGAXZA.  207 

tant  from  the  mode  in  which  its  subject  is  treated,  and 
interesting  from  the  circumstance  that  its  history 
can  be  more  exactly  traced  than  that  of  *  any  *  227 
other  of  Loj^e's  phiys.  It  is  founded  on  the 
dark  and  hideous  story  in  the  annals  of  Ferrara,  dur- 
ing the  fifteenth  century,  which  Lord  Byron  found  in 
Gibbon's  "  Antiquities  of  the  House  of  Brunswick,"  and 
made  the  subject  of  his  "  Parisina,"  ^"^  but  which  Lope, 
following  the  old  chronicles  of  the  duchy,  has  presented 
in  a  somewhat  different  light,  and  thrown  with  no  little 
skill  into  a  dramatic  form. 

The  Duke  of  Ferrara,  in  his  traged}^,  is  a  person  of 
mark  and  spirit,  —  a  commander  of  the  Papal  forces, 
and  a  prince  of  statesmanlike  experience  and  virtues. 
He  marries  when  already  past  the  middle  age  of  life, 
and  sends  his  natural  son,  Frederic,  to  receive  his 
beautiful  bride,  a  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Mantua,  and 
to  conduct  her  to  Ferrara.  Before  he  reaches  Mantua, 
however,  Frederic  meets  her  accidentally  on  the  way ; 
and  his  first  interview  with  his  step-mother  is  when  he 
rescues  her  from  drowning.  From  this  moment  they 
become  gradually  more  and  more  attached  to  each 
other,  until  their  attachment  ends  in  guilt;  partly' 
through  the  strong  impulses  of  their  own  natures,  and 
partly  from  the  coldness  and  faithlessness  of  the  Duke 
to  his  young  and  passionate  wife. 

On  his  return  home  from  a  successful  campaign,  the 
Duke  discovers  the  intrigue.  A  struggle  ensues  be- 
tween his  affection  for  his  son  and  the  stinorino;  sense 
of  his  own  dishonor.  At  last  be  determines  to  punish; 
but  in  such  a  manner  as  tc    hide  the  grounds  of  his 

1"  Tlie  story  was  well  known,  from  Lope,  in  the  Preface  to  his  version  of  It, 

its  peculiar  horrors,  though  the  events  says  it  was  extant  in  Latin,   French, 

occurred  in  1405,  —  more  than  two  cen-  German,  Tuscan,  and  Castilian. 
turies    before    the    date    of    the    play. 


268  THE    CASTIGO    SIN    YENGAXZA.  [Pkkk.d  II. 

offence.  To  effect  this,  he  confines  his  wife  in  a  dar- 
kened room,  and  so  conceals  and  secures  her  person, 
that  she  can  neither  move,  nor  speak,  nor  be  seen. 
He  then  sends  his  offending  son  to  her,  under  the  pre- 
tence that  beneath  the  pall  that  hides  her  is  placed 
ji  traitor,  whom  the  son  is  required  to  kill  in  order 
to  protect  his  fjither's  life ;  and  when  the  desperate 
young  man  rushes  from  the  room,  ignorant  who 
*  228  has  been  his  victim,  he  is  instantly  cut  *  down 
by  the  bj^standers,  on  his  father's  outcry,  that 
he  has  just  murdered  his  step-mother,  with  whose 
Ijlood  his  hands  are,  in  fict,  visibl}^  reeking. 

Lope  finished  this  play  on  the  1st  of  August,  1631, 
when  he  was  nearly  sixty-nine  years  old ;  and  yet 
there  are  few  of  his  dramas,  in  the  class  to  which 
it  belongs,  that  are  more  marked  Avith  poetical  vigor, 
and  in  none  is  the  versification  more  light  and  vari- 
ous.^^  The  characters,  especially  those  of  the  father 
and  son,  are  better  defined  and  better  sustained  than 
usual ;  and  the  whole  was  evidently  written  with  care, 
for  there  are  not  infrequently  large  alterations,  as  well 
as  many  minute  verbal  corrections,  in  the  original 
manuscript,  which  is  still  extant. 

Tt  was  not  licensed  for  representation  till  the  9th 
of  May,  1632,  —  apparently  from  the  known  unwilling- 
ness of  the  court  to  have  persons  of  rank,  like  the 
Duke  of  Ferrara,  brought  upon  the  stage  in  a  light  so 
odious.  At  any  rate,  when  the  tardy  permission  was 
granted,  it  was  accompanied  with  a  certificate  that  the 
Duke  was  treated  with  the  decorum  "due  to  his 
person " ;  though,  even  w  ith  this  assurance,  it  was 
acted    but    once,   notwithstanding    it   made    a    strong 

"  This  play  contains  all  the  usual  va-     a  sonnt-t,   etc.;  but   esppcially,    in  the 
rieties of  measure,  —  redondillas,  terccUis,     first  act,  a  silva  of  beautiful  fluency. 


Chap.  XVI. 


THE    CASTIGO    SIN    VP:NGAN/A. 


269 


Impression  nt  the  time,  and  was  hroiiulit  out  by  the  eoni- 
pany  of  Figueroa,  the  most  suecessfiil  of  the  period,  — 
Arias,  whose  acting  Montalvan  praises  highly,  taking 
the  part  of  the  son.^'^  In  1684,  Lope  printed  it,  with 
more  than  connnon  cai'e,  at  Barcekma,  dedicating  it 
to  his  great  patron,  the  Duke  of  Sessa,  among  "  the 
servants  of  whose  house,"  he  says,  "he  was  inscribed"; 
and  the  next  year,  immediately  after  his  deajth,  it 
appeared  again,  without  the  Dedication,  in  the  twenty- 
first  volume  of  his  plays,  prepared  anew  by  himself 
for  the  pi-es8,  but  })u])li8hed  by  his  daughter  Feli- 
Clan  a.  "^ 

*Like  "Punishment,  not  Vengeance,"  several    *  229 
other  dramas  of  its  class  are  imbued  with  the 
deepest  spirit  of  tragedy.      "  The  Knights  Command- 


1^  Gayaugo.s  says,  that  the  reason  the 
representation  was  stopped  was  from  a 
supposed  allusion  in  the  story  to  the 
case  of  Don  Carlos.  I  do  not  know  on 
what  ground  he  says  it,  and  it  does  not 
seem  probable. 

1^  I  i>ossess  the  original  MS.,  entire- 
ly in  LopS'.s  handwriting,  with  many 
alterations,  corrections,  and  interlinea- 
tions by  himself.  It  is  prepared  for  the 
actors,  and  has  the  license  for  repre- 
senting it  by  Pedro  de  Vargas  Machuca, 
a  poet  himself,  and  Lope's  friend,  who 
was 'much  employed  to  license  plays  for 
the  theatre.  He  also  figui'ed  at  the 
"Justas  Poeticas  "  of  San  Isidro,  pub- 
lished by  Lope  in  1620  and  1622  ;  and 
in  the  "  Justa  "  in  honor  of  the  Virgen 
del  Pilar,  published  by  Caceres  in  1629  ; 
in  neither  of  which,  however,  do  his 
poems  give  ])roof  of  much  talent,  though 
there  is  no  doubt  of  his  popularity  with 
his  contemj)oraries.  (Alvarez  y  Baena, 
Hijos  de  Madrid,  Tom.  IV.  p.  199.) 
He  claimed  to  be  descended  from  the 
Diego  Perez  de  Vargas  of  the  Ballads 
and  Chronicles,  who,  having  lost  his 
arms  of  offence  at  the  battle  of  Xerez 
in  the  time  of  St.  Ferdinand,  tore  off 
the  branch  of  an  olive-tree,  and  so  be- 
labored the  Moors  with  it  that  he  re- 
ceived the  sohriqn.cf  of  "  Machuca,"  or 
(he  Pniniiler.      (Aliiiela    Vnlcrio   <le   las 


Hj'storias  Escolasticas,  Toledo,  1541,  f. 
15,  a.  —  Lope  de  Vega,  Laurel  de  Apolo, 
1630,  f.  75.)  At  the  top  of  each  page 
in  the  MS.  of  Lope  de  Vega  is  a  cross 
with  the  names  or  ciphers  of  "  Je.sus, 
Maria,  Josephus,  Christus  "  ;  and  at  the 
end,  "  Laus  Deo  et  Mariie  Virgini," 
with  the  date  of  its  conii)letion  and  the 
signature  of  the  author.  Whether  Lope 
tliought  it  possible  to.,  consecrate  the 
gross  immoralities  of  such  a  di'ama  by 
religious  symbols,  I  do  not  know  ;  but 
if  he  did,  it  would  not  be  inconsistent 
with  his  character  or  the  spirit  of  his 
time.  A  cross  was  commonly  put  at 
the  top  of  Spanish  letters,  —  a  practice 
alluded  to  in  Lope's  "  Perro  del  Horte- 
lano,"  (Jornada  II.,)  and  one  that  must 
have  led  often  to  similar  incongruities. 
But  this  seems  to  have  been  discontin- 
ued at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. At  least,  in  a  drama  acted  then, 
where  reforms  in  the  beginning  of  MSS. 
are  proposed,  one  asks,  whether  any- 
thing is  to  be  done  with  the  cross.  To 
which  the  other  answers  :  — - 

Esa  esti  ja  reformada  ; 
Porque  si  uno  escribe  al  diablo 
No  se  espante  de  la  carta. 

Juzgado  Ca.sero,  1786,  p.  152. 

Nay,  this  has  been  refoniie<l  already, 
Jjest,  when  w(^  send  the  Devil  a  letter, 
He  sliould  be  fiiu'hted  when  lie  opens  it. 


-70  THE    ESTliELLA    DE    SEVILLA.  [rKiuuD  II. 

ers  of  Cordova "  is  an  instance  in  point.^^  It  is  a 
parallel  to  the  story  of  ^Egisthus  and  Clyteinnestra  in 
its  horrors ;  but  the  husband,  instead  of  meeting  the 
fate  of  Agamemnon,  puts  to  death,  not  only  his  guilty 
Avife,  but  all  his  servants  and  every  living  thing  in 
his  household,  to  satisfy  his  savage  sense  of  honor. 
Poetry  is  abundant  in  many  of  its  scenes.  l)ut  the 
atrocities  of  the  rest  will  hardly  permit  it  to  be  per- 
ceived. 

"The  Star  of  Seville,"  on  the  other  hand,  though 
much  more  trulv  tragic,  is  liable  to  no  such  objection.^^ 
In  some  respects  it  resembles  Corneille's  "^  Cid."      At 

the  command  of  his  king,  and  from  the  truest 
-  230  .  *  Castilian  loyalty,  a  knight  of  Seville  kills  his 

friend,  a  brother  of  the  lady  whom  he  is  about 
to  marry.  The  king  afterwards  endeavors  to  hold  him 
harmless  for  the  crime;  but  the  royal  judges  refuse  to 
interrupt  the  course  of  the  law  in  his  fovor.  and  the 
brave  knight  is  saved  from  death  only  by  the  plenary 
confession  of  his  guilty  sovereign.      It  is  one  of  the 

very  small  number  of  Lope's  pieces  that  have  no  comic 

• 

1*  Comedias,  Tom.  II.  Madrid,  1609.  ami  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  my  fii'st 
Thrice  at  least,  —  viz.  in  this  play,  in  knowledge  of  it.  Tiie  same  ])lay  is  well 
his  "Fuente  Ovejuna,"  and  in  hLs  known  on  the  modern  Spanish  stage, 
"  Peribanez,"  —  Lope  has  shown  us  and  has  been  reprinted,  both  at  Madrid 
commanders  of  the  gi-eat  military  orders  and  London,  with  large  alterations, 
of  his  country  in  very  otlious  colors,  under  the  title  of  "  Sancho  Ortiz  de  las 
representing  them  as  men  of  the  most  Roelas."  An  excellent  abstract  of  it, 
fierce  jtride  and  the  gros.sest  passions,  in  its  original  state,  and  faithful  trans- 
like the  Front-de-B(X'uf  of  Ivanhoe.  lations  of  parts  of  it,  are  to  be  found  in 

^^  Old  copies  of  this  ]day  are  e.xces-  Lord  Holland's  Life  of  Lope  (Vol.  I. 
sively  scarce,  an<l  I  obtained,  therefore,  pp.  Loo  -  200^  ;  out  of  which,  and  not 
many  years  ago,  a  manuscript  of  it,  out  of  the  Si)anish  original.  Baron 
from  which  it  was  reprinted  twice  in  Zedlitz  composed  "Der  Stem  von  Se- 
this country  by  Mr.  F.  Sales,  in  his  villa "  ;  a  play  by  no  means  without 
"  Obras  Maestras  Dramaticas  "  (Boston,  merit,  which  was  printed  at  Stuttgard 
LS28  and  1840)  ;  the  last  time  with  cor-  in  1830,  an<l  has  been  often  acted  in 
lections,  kindly  furnished  by  Don  A.  different  jiarts  of  Germany.  The  locali- 
Duran,  of  Madrid;  —  a  curious  fact  in  ties  referred  to  in  the  "  Estrella  de 
Spanish  bibliograjihy,  and  one  that  Sevilla,"  including  the  house  of  Bustos 
should  be  mentioned  to  the  honor  of  Tabera,  the  lover  of  E.strella,  are  still 
Mr.  Sales,  whose  various  pul)lications  shown  at  Seville.  Latour,  Etuiles  sur 
liave  done  much  to  .s])read  the  love  of  I'Espagne,  Paris,  1855,  Tom.  II.  p.  ^>2, 
Spanisli  literature  in  the  United  States,  etc. 


♦LIIA1-.  XVI. J  VARIOUS    IILSTOKICAL    DRAMAS.  271 

and  (listnicting  iiiiderplot,  and  Is  to  be  placed  among 
the  lol'tiest  of  his  efforts.  Not  a  few  of  its  scenes  are 
admirable;  especially  that  in  which  the  king  urges  the 
knight  to  kill  his  friend  ;  that  in  which  the  lovely  and 
innocent  creature  whom  the  knight  is  about  to  marry 
receives,  in  the  midst  of  the  frank  and  delightful  ex- 
pressions of  her  happiness,  the  dead  body  of  her 
brother,  wlio  has  been  slain  by  her  lover ;  and  that  in 
which  the  Alcaldes  solemnly  refuse  to  wrest  the  law 
in  obedience  to  the  royal  commands.  The  conclusion 
is  better  than  that  in  the  tragedy  of  Corneille.  The 
lady  abandons  the  world  and  retires  to  a  convent. 

Of  the  great  number  of  Lope's  heroic  dramas  on 
national  subjects,  a  few  may  be  noticed,  in  order  to  in- 
dicate the  direction  he  gave  to  this  division  of  his  the- 
atre. One,  for  instance,  is  on  the  story  of  Bamba, 
taken  from  the  plough  to  be  made  king  of  Spain  ;^" 
^nd  another,  "The  Last  Goth,"  is  on  the  popular  tradi- 
tions of  the  loss  of  Spain  by  Roderic  ;  ^'  —  the  first  be- 
ing among  the  earliest  of  his  published  plays,^^  and  the 
last  not  published  till  twelve  years  after  his 
death,  but  both  *  written  in  one  spirit  and  upon  *  231 
the  same  system.  On  the  attractive  subject  of 
Bernardo  del  Carpio  he  has  several  dramas.  One  is 
called  "The  Youthful  Adventures  of  Bernardo,"  and 
relates  his  exploits  down  to  the  time  when  he  discov- 
ered the  secret  of  his  birth.  Another,  called  "  Achieve- 
ments of  Bernardo  del  Carpio,"  I  have  never  seen,  but 
it  is  among  the  plays  Lord  Holland  had  read.  And  a 
third, "  Marriage  in  Death,"  involves  the  misconduct  of 

1"  Coiiit'dias,     Toia.     I.,     Valladolid.  i'^  C'omedias,  Tom.   XXV.,  Qavagoca, 

\tiOi,  tf.    91,    etc.,   in   wliicli    Lope  has  1647,  ff.  369,  etc.      It  i.s  called  "  Tragi- 

^visely  followed  the  old  monkish  tradi-  comedia." 

tions,  rather  than  either  tlu^  "  Oronica  i**  The  first  edition  of  the  first  volume 

deneral,"  (Parte  II.   c.   .51,)  oi'  th"  yA  of  Lope's  plays  is  that  of  Valladolid, 

more  sobered  account  of  Mariana  (Hist.,  1604.     See  Brunet,  etc. 
Lib.  VI.  e.  12). 


VARIOUS    IIISTOKICAL    DILVMAS. 


[I'KKIOD    IK 


Kino;  Alfonso,  and  the  heart-rendino;  scene  in  wliieli 
the  dead  body  of  Bernardo's  father  is  delivered  to  the 
hero,  "who  has  sacrificed  evervthino-  to  filial  piety,  and 
now  finds  himself  crushed  and  ruined  by  it.^^  The 
seven  Infantes  of  Lara  ai'c  not  passed  over,  as  Ave  see 
both  in  the  play  that  bears  their  name,  and  in  the 
more  striking  one  on  the  stor}^  of  Mudarra,  "  El  Bas- 
tard© Mudarra."-*^  Indeed,  it  seems  as  if  no  available 
])oint  in  tlie  national  annals  were  missed  b\^  Lope  ;  "^ 
and  that,  after  brino-inti'  on  the  stay^e  the  g-reat  events 
in  S])anish  history  and  tradition  consecutively  down  ta 
his  own  times,  he  looks  round  on  all  sides  for  subjects, 
at  home  and  abroad,  taking  one  from  the  usurpation 
of  Boris  Gudimow  at  Moscow,  in  IGOG."  another  from 
the  conquest  of  Arauco,  in  1560,-'^  and  another  from 
the  great  league  that  ended  with  the  battle  of  Lepanta 
in  1-571  ;  in  which  last,  to  avoid  the  awkwardness  of  a 
.sea-fight  on  the  stage,  he  is  guilty  of  introducing 
*  232  the  greater  awkwardness  of  an  allegorical  *  fig- 
ure of  Spain  describing  the  battle  to  the  au- 
dience in  Madrid,  at  the  very  moment  when  it  is  sup- 
posed to  be  going  on  near  the  shores  of  Greece.^ 


'^  The  first  two  of  tbt-se  plays,  wliich 
are  not  to  be;  found  in  tlic  collected  dra- 
matic works  of  Lope,  have  often  been 
jmnted  separatelj' ;  but  the  last  occurs, 
I  believe,  only  in  the  first  volume  of  the 
Comedias,  (Valladolid,  1004,  f.  i>8,)  and 
in  the  repiints  of  it.  It  makes  free 
use  of  the  old  ballads  of  Duraudarte 
and  Belerma. 

^'  The  "Siete  Infantes  de  Lara"  is 
in  the  Comedias,  Tom.  V.,  Madrid, 
161'),  and  the  "  liastardo  MudaiTa  "  is 
in  Tom.  XXIV.,  Zaragoza,  1641. 

2'  Thus,  the  attractive  story  of  "  E\ 
Mejor  Alcalde  el  Rev  "  is.  as  he  liimself 
tells  us  at  the  conclusion,  taken  from 
the  fourth  part  of  the  "Cninica  Gen- 
eral." 

*^  "  El  Gran  Du(|ue  de  iluscovia," 
Comedia.s,  Tom.  VII.,  Madrid,  1617. 

^  "Arauco  Doniaib),"  Comedias, 
Tom.  XX.,  Madrid,  162lt.     The  scene 


is  laid  about  1560  ;  but  tbe  play  is  in- 
tended as  a  compliment  to  the  living 
sou  of  the  con(pieror.  In  the  Dedica- 
tion to  him,  Lojjc  asserts  it  to  be  a  true 
history  ;  but  there  is,  of  cour.se,  much 
invention  mingled  with  it,  especially  in 
the  parts  that  do  honor  to  the  Span- 
iards. Among  its  personages  is  the  au- 
tlior  of  the  "  Araucana,"  Alonso  de 
Ercilla,  who  comes  upon  the  stage  beat- 
ing a  dnim  !  Another  and  earlier  play 
of  Lope  may  be  compared  with  tin- 
"Arauco";  I  mean  "Los  (iuanche.>> 
de  Tenerife"  (Comedia.s,  Tom.  X.,  Ma- 
lirid,  1620,  f.  128).  It  is  on  the  simi- 
lar subject  of  the  conquest  of  the  Ca- 
nary Islands,  in  the  time  of  Ferdinand 
and  I.sabella,  and,  as  in  the  "  Ai-auco 
Domado,"  the  natives  occupy  much  of 
the  canvas. 

-*  "  La  Santa  Liga,"  Comedia.s,  Tom. 
XV.,  Madrid,  1621. 


«iiAi'.   XVl.J  \Ai;i()LS     IIISTOKICAL    DUAMAS.  Z  /  o 

The  whole  class  of  those  heroic  and  historical  dra- 
mas, it  should  ))e  reiiieiidjered,  makes  little  claim  to 
historical  accuracy.  A  love  story,  filled  as  usual  with 
hairbreadth  escapes,  jealous  quarrels,  and  ([uestions  of 
honor,  runs  through  nearly  every  one  oi'  them  ;  and 
though,  in  some  cases,  we  may  trust  to  the  facts  set 
before  us,  as  we  must  in  "  The  Valiant  Cespedes," 
where  the  poet  gravely  declares  that  all  except  the 
love  adventures  are  strictly  true,^^  still  in  no  case 
I'aii  it  be  pretended,  that  the  manners  of  an  earlier 
age,  or  of  foreign  nations,  are  respected,  or  that  the 
general  coloring  of  the  representation  is  to  be  regarded 
as  faithful.  Thus,  in  one  play,  we  see  Nero  hurrying 
about  the  streets  of  Rome,  like  a  Spanish  gallant,  with 
a  guitar  on  his  arm,  and  making  love  to  his  mistress 
at  her  grated  window."''  In  another,  Belisarius,  in  the 
days  of  his  glory,  is  selected  to  act  the  part  of  Pj'ra- 
mus  in  an  interlude  before  the  Emperor  Justinian, 
much  as  if  he  belongetl  to  Nick  Bottom's  company,  and 
afterwards  has  his  eyes  put  out,  on  a  charge  of  mak- 
ing love  to  the  Empress.^"  And  in  yet  a  third,  Cyrus 
the  Great,  after  he  is  seated   on   his  throne,  marries 


25  "El  Valieiite Cespedes,"  Comedias,  Montalvan,   both   he   and   Lope   being 

Tom.  XX.,  Madrid,  1(329.     This  notice  then  alive.     And,  after  all,  it  turns  out 

is  specially  given  to  the  reader  by  Lope,  to  belong  to  neither  of  them,  for  Von 

out  of  tenderness  to  the  rejnitation  of  Schack  found,  in  the  Duke  of  Ossuna's 

Doha  Maria  de  Cespedes,  who  does  not  admirable    collection    at    Madrid,    this 

appear   in    the    play  with  all  the  dig-  very  play  in  the  handwriting  of  Mira 

nity  which  those  who,  in  Lope's  time,  de  Mescua,   and  signed   by  hini  as  its 

claimed  to  be  descended  from  her  might  author.     What  renders  the  aifair  more 

c'Xact  at  his  hands.  odd  is,  that  there  is,  with  the  autograph 

^  In  "Roma  Abrasada,"  Acto  II.  f.  play,  the  autograph  aprovacionoi  Lojie, 

89,  already  noticed,  ante,  p.  219.  containing   a   graceful    compliment    to 

27  Jornada  II.   of  "  Exemplo  Mayor  Mira    de    Mescua   as    the    authoi',    and 

de  la  Desdicha,  y  Capitan   Belisario";  dated  July,    1625.      (Xachtrage,   18.54, 

not  in  the  collection  of  Lope's  plays,  8vo,   p.  57. )     I    leave   both   te.xt   and 

and  though  often  jirinted  separately  as  note,  published  several  years  before  the 

his,  and  inserted  as  such  on  Lord  Hoi-  date  of  this  discovery,  as  they  were  origi- 

land's  list,   it   is  published  in  the  old  nally  printed,  because  they  afford  such 

and  curious  collection  entitled  "Come-  amusing  proof  of  a  recklessness  not  uii- 

^lias  de  Diferentes  Autore.s,"  (4to,  Tom.  common  among  the  i)ublishers  of  Span- 

XXV.,  Zaragoza,  1633,)  as  the  work  of  ish  dramas  in  the  seventeenth  century, 
vol,,   ir.                                 18 


274  VAKIOUS    lllSTUiacAL    DRAMAS.  [Pkkiud  il. 

*233  a  sliepherdes!^.-'^  But  there  *  is  no  end  to  such 
absurdities  in  Lo})e"s  phiys  ;  and  the  explana- 
tion of  them  all  is.  that  they  were  not  felt  to  be  sueh 
at  the  time.  Truth  and  failhfulness  in  regard  to  the 
facts,  manners,  and  eostunic  of  a  drama  were  not  sup- 
posed to  be  more  important,  in  the  age  of  Lope,  than 
an  observation  of  the  unities;  —  not  more  important 
than  they  were  supposed  to  be  a  century  later,  in 
France,  in  the  unending  romances  of  Caljorenede  and 
Scudery  :  —  not  more  important  than  they  are  deemed 
in  an  Italian  opera  now:  —  so  profound  is  the  thought 
of  the  o-reatest  of  all  the  masters  of  the  historical  dra- 
ma.  that  "the  best  in  this  kind  are  but  shadows,  and 
the  worst  are  no  worse,  if  imagination  amend  them." 

•^  "Contra  Valor  uo  hay  Desdiclia."  in    consequence    of    his    grandfather's 

Like   the   last,   it   has  been    often  re-  dream,  and  ends  with  a  battle  and  his 

])rinted.     It  begins  with  the  romantic  victory  over  Astyages  and  all  his  ene- 

account  of  Cyrus's  exjiosure  to  death,  mies. 


*  C  H  A  P  T  E  R    X  A^  1 1 .  *  234 

LOPE    BE    VEGA,  CONTINUED. DRAMAS    THAT  AKK  EOtTXDED    ON    THE    MANNERS 

OF    COMMON    LIFE. THE    WISE    MAN    AT    HOME. Till;    DAMSEL    THEODOKA. 

CAPTIVES     IN    ALGIERS. INFLUENCE     OF    THE    ClllltCII     ON    THE    DRAMA. 

lope's    plays    FROM    SCRIPTURE. THE    BIRTH    OF    (IIlilST. THE    CREA- 
TION   OF    THE    WORLD. LOPE's     PLAYS    ON    THE    LIVES    OF    SAINTS. SAINT 

ISIDORE     OF     MADRID. LOPE's     SACRAMENTAL    AUTOS    FOR    THE    FESTIVAL 

OF     THE     CORPUS     CIIRISTI. TllEIU     PROLOGUES. THEIR     INTERLUDES.  

THE    AUTOS    THEMSELVES. 

The  liistoi'ical  drama  of  Lope  was  but  a  deviation 
from  the  more  truly  national  type  of  the  "•  Comedia  de 
Capa  y  Espada,"  made  by  the  introduction  of  historical 
names  for  its  leading  personages,  instead  of  those  that 
belong  to  fashionable  and  knightly  life.  This,  how- 
ever, was  not  the  oidy  deviation  he  made.^  He  went 
sometimes  quite  as  far  on  the  other  side,  and  created  a 
variety  or  subdivision  of  the  theatre,  founded  on  common 
life,  in  which  the  chief  personages,  like  those  of  "The 
Watermaid,"  and  "The  Slave  of  her  Lover,"  belong  to 
the  lower  classes  of  society.^  Of  such  dramas,  he  has 
left  only  a  few,  but  these  few  are  interesting. 

*  Perhaps  the  best  specimen  of  them  is  "  The  *  235 
Wise  Man  at  Home,"  in  which  the  hero,  if  he 

1  We    occasionally    meet    with    the         '^  "La  Moza  de  Cantaro''  and  "La 

jjhrase  comedias  de  ruidu  ;  but  it  does  Eselava  de  su  Galan  "  have  continued  to 

not  mean  a  class  of  plays  separated  from  be   favorites  down  to   our  own  times, 

the  others  by  different  rules  of  composi-  The   first  was  printed  at   London,  not 

tion.    It  refers  to  the  machinery  used  in  many  years  ago,  and  the  last  at  Paris, 

their  exhibition  ;    so  that  comedias  de  in  Ochoa's  collection,  1838,  8vo,  and  at 

capa  y  espada, -And  esYie(Adi\\YcomedAasde  Bielefeld,  in  that  of  Schiitz,  1840,  8vo. 
santm,  whicli  often  demanded  a  large  ap-         Lope  sometimes  went  verj'  low  down, 

paratus,  were  not  unfrequently  comedias  among  courtesans   and  rogues,  for  the 

de  ruido,  otherwise  called  comedias  dc  subjects  of  his  plays;  as  in  the  "An- 

caso    or  comedias  de  fabrica.      In    the  zuelo  de  Fenisa,"  (the  story  of  which,  I 

same  way  comedias  de  apariencias  were  su])pose,  he  took  from  the  Decameron, 

plays   demanding    much    scenery    and  Vlllth  day,  10th  tale,)  "  El  Rufian  Di- 

scene-shifting.  choso,"  and  some  others. 


270  DKAMAS    ON    COMMON    LIFE.  [I'l.inni,  II. 

may  be  so  called,  is  Meiido,  the  son  of  a  poc.r  eliareoal- 
biirner."^  He  has  married  the  only  child  of  a  respect- 
able fai'iiier,  and  is  in  an  easy  condition  of  life,  with 
the  road  to  advancement,  at  least  in  a  gay  course, 
open  before  him.  But  he  prefers  to  remain  where  he 
is.  He  refuses  the  solicitations  of  a  nei«:hborini>:  law- 
yer  or  clerk,  engaged  in  public  affairs,  who  would  have 
the  honest  Mendo  take  upon  himself  the  airs  of  an 
hidalgo  and  cahallero.  Especiall}^  upon  what  was  then 
the  great  point  in  private  life,  —  his  relations  with  his 
pretty  wife,  —  he  shows  his  uniform  good  sense,  Avhile 
his  more  ambitious  friend  falls  into  serious  embarrass- 
ments, and  is  obliged  at  last  to  come  to  him  for  coun- 
sel and  heljD. 

The  doctrine  of  the  piece  is  well  explained  in  the 
following  reply  of  Mendo  to  his  friend,  who  had 
been  urging  him  to  lead  a  more  showy  life,  and  raise 
the  external  circumstances  of  his  father. 

He  that  was  born  to  live  in  Immble  state 

Makes  but  an. awkward  knight,  do  what  yon  will. 

M)'  father  means  to  die  as  he  has  lived, 

The  same  plain  collier  that  he  always  was  ; 

And  I,  too,  mnst  an  honest  ploughman  die. 

'T  is  but  a  single  step,  or  up  or  down  ; 

For  men  there  must  be  that  will  plough  and  dig, 

And,  when  the  vase  has  once  been  filled,  be  sure 

'T  will  always  savor  of  what  first  it  held.* 

The  story  is  less  important  than  it  is  in  many  of 
Lope's   dramas ;  but   the   sketches  of  common  life  are 

3  Comedias,  Tom.  Y\.,  Ma-lrid,  ]r)1.5,  *  Kl  q""  naoio  para  humilde 
101,  ete.       It   may   be  worth    not  ce,  Mi  padre  quk-r,.  morir, 

that  the  fharaeterol  Mendo  .;  like  that  Ixsonardo,  como  nacio. 

of  Camaeho  in  the  Second   i^irt   of  Don  Carbonero  im- enpendro ; 

Qui-xote,  whi.-h  was  first  piiuted  in  the  Labnidor  quiero  n.orir 
same  year,  lbl.5.     1  he  resemblance  be-  Ava  quieii  are  y  quicn  caue. 

tween    the   two,    however,    is   not   very  Siemiire  cl  vaso  al  licor  sr.be. 
strong,  and  perhaps  is  wholly  acciden-            Comedias,  Tom.  VI.,  Madrid,  1615,  f.  117. 
tal,  although  Lope  was  not  careful  to 
make  acknowledgments. 


Chap.  XVII.] 


THE    DONZELLA    TEODOK. 


t  i 


sometimes  spirited,  like  the  one  in  which  Mendo  de- 
scribes his  first  siglit  of  his  future  wife,  busied 
in  household  work,  and  *  the  elaborate  scene  *  236 
where  his  first  child  is  christened.^  The  char- 
acters, on  the  other  hand,  are  better  defined  and 
drawn  than  is  common  with  him ;  and  that  of  the 
plain,  practically  wise  Mendo  is  sustained,  from  begin- 
ning to  end,  with  consistency  and  skill,  as  well  as  with 
good  dramatic  effect.^ 

Another  of  these  more  domestic  pieces  is  called 
"^^  The  Damsel  Theodora,"  and  shows  how  gladly  and 
with  what  ingenuity  Lope  seized  on  the  stories  current 
in  his  time  and  turned  them  to  dramatic  account. 
The  tale  he  now  used,  which  jjears  the  same  title  with 
the  play,  and  is  extremely  simple  in  its  structure,  is 
claimed  to  have  been  written  by  an  Aragonese,  of 
whom  we  know  only  that  his  name  was  Alfonso.^  The 
damsel  Theodora,  in  this  original  fiction,  is  a  slave  in 
Tunis,  and  belongs  to   a   Hungarian  merchant   living 


*  There  is  in  these  passages  some- 
thing of  the  euphuistical  style  then  in 
favor,  under  the  name  of  the  estilo  culto, 
with  which  Lope  sometimes  humored 
the  more  fashionable  portions  of  his 
<iudience,  though  on  other  occasions 
he  bore  a  decided  testimony  against 
it. 

^  This  play,  I  think,  gave  the  hint 
to  Calderon  for  his  ' '  Alcalde  de  Zala- 
mea,"  in  which  the  character  of  Pedro 
Crespo,  the  peasant,  is  drawn  with  more 
than  his  accustomed  distinctness.  It 
is  the  last  piece  in  the  common  collec- 
tion of  Calderon's  Comedias,  and  nearly 
all  its  characters  are  happily  touched. 

"^  This  is  among  the  more  cuiious  of 
the  old  j)opular  Spanish  tales.  N.  An- 
tonio (Bib.  Nov.,  Tom.  I.  p.  9)  assigns 
no  age  to  its  author,  and  no  date  to  the 
published  story.  Denis,  in  his  "Chro- 
niques  de  I'Espagne,"  etc.,  (Paris,  1839, 
8vo,  Tom.  I.  p.  285,)  gives  no  addi- 
tional light,  but,  in  one  of  his  notes, 
treats  its  ideas  on  natural  history  as 
those  of  the  moi/rji.  d(jc.  It  seems,  how- 
ever,  from  internal  evidence,   to  have 


been  conipcsed  after  the  fall  of  Granada. 
Gayangos  gives  editions  of  the  "  Don- 
zella  Teodor"  in  1537  and  1540,  and 
mentions  an  Arabic  version  of  it,  which 
leads  him  to  the  conjecture  that  the 
Aragonese,  Alfonso,  to  whom  Antonio 
attributes  the  story,  is  no  other  than 
the  converted  Jew,  Pedro  Alfon.so,  who 
in  the  twelfth  century  wrote  the  ' '  Dis- 
ciplina  Clericalis."  (See  rnite,  Vol.  I. 
pp.  63,  64,  note,  and  the  Spanish  trans- 
lation of  this  History,  Tom.  II.  pp. 
353-357.)  But  I  cannot  think  it  is 
older  than  the  time  of  Charles  V.  ; 
probably  not  older  than  the  capture  of 
Tunis,  in  1535.  The  copy  I  use  is  of 
1726,  showing  that  it  was  in  favor  in 
the  eighteenth  century  ;  and  I  possess 
another  printed  for  popular  circuhition 
about  1845.  We  find  early  allusions  to 
the  Donzella  Teodor,  as  a  well-known 
personage  ;  for  example,  in  "  The  Mod- 
est Man  at  Court "  of  Tirso  de  Molina, 
where  one  of  the  characters,  speaking 
of  a  lady  he  admires,  cri(!s  out,  "Que 
Donzella  Teodor  !  "  <  'igarrales  de  To- 
ledo, Madrid,  1624,  4to,  p.  158. 


278  THE    CAUTIVOS    DE    AliGEL.  [Period  1L 

there,  who  has  k).st  his  whole  fortune.  At  her  sugges- 
tion, she  is  offered  by  her  master  to  the  king  of  Tunis, 
who  is  so  much  struck  with  her  beauty  and  with  the 
amount  of  her  knowdedge,  that  he  purchases  her  at 
a  price  which  re-estabhshes  her  master's  condition. 
The    point    of   the    whole   consists    in    the    exhibition 

of  this  knowledge  through  discussions  with 
*237    *  learned    men;  l)ut   the   subjects   are  most  of 

them  of  the  commonest  kind,  and  the  merit 
of  the  story  is  quite  inconsideral)le. — less,  for  in- 
stance, than  that  of  '-  Friar  Bacon, "  in  English,  to 
which,  in  several  respects,  it  may  be  compared.  ^ 

But  Lope  knew  his  audiences,  and  succeeded  in 
adapting  this  old  tale  to  their  taste.  The  damsel  The- 
odora, as  he  arranges  her  character  for  the  stage,  is 
the  daughter  of  a  professor  at  Toledo,  and  is  educated 
in  all  the  learning  of  her  fathers  schools.  She,  how- 
ever, is  not  raised  by  it  above  tlie  influences  of  the 
tender  passion,  and,  running  away  with  her  lover,  is 
captured  by  a  vessel  from  the  coast  of  Barbary,  and 
carried  as  a  slave  successively  to  Oran,  to  Constantino- 
ple, and  finally  to  Persia,  where  she  is  sold  to  the 
Sultan  for  an  inuncnse  sum  on  account  of  her  rare 
knowledge,  displayed  in  the  last  act  of  the  i)lay  much 
as  it  is  in  the  original  tale  of  Alfonso,  and  sometimes 
in  the  same  words.  But  the  love  intrigue,  with  a 
multitude  of  jealous  troubles  and  adventures,  runs 
through  the  whole ;  and  as  the  Sultan  is  made  to 
understand  at  last  the  relations  of  all  the  parties,  who 
are  strangely  assembled  before  him,  he  gives  the  price 

*  The  y>oj)ular  English  story  of  " F" IV-  in   ir)94.      Botli   may  he  considered  as 

f-r   liaeon  "    hardly    {i<»-s   hack    fiirthei-  luiiiiinf;    ])arallel    with    the    stor}'    and 

than  to  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  c-i-n-  play  of  tlie   "I)onzi"lla  Teodor,"  so  as 

tury,  tliough  some  of  its  materials  may  to  he  read  with  advantage  when  eom- 

he  traced  to  the  '*  Oesta  Homanonim."  paring    the    Spanish    drama   with   the 

Robert  Greene's  play  on  it  wa^s  printed  English. 


Chap.  XVII.]  THE    CAUTIVOS    DE    AKGEL.  279 

of  the  damsel  as  her  dower,  and  marries  her  to  the 
lover  with  whom  she  originally  fled  from  Toledo. 
The  principal  jest,  both  in  the  drama  and  the  story,  is, 
that  a  learned  doctor,  who  is  defeated  by  Theodora  in 
a  pnblic  trial  of  wits,  is  hoimd  by  the  terms  of  the 
contest  to  be  stri})ped  naked,  and  buys  off  his  ignominy 
with  a  snm  which  goes  still  further  to  increase  the 
lady's  fortune  and  the  content  of  her  husband.'' 

The  last  of  Lope's  plays  to  be  noticed  among  those 
whose  subjects  are  drawn  from  common  life  is  a  more 
direct  appeal,  perhaps,  than  any  other  of  its  class  to 
the  popular  feeling.  It  is  his  ^'  Captives  in  Algiers,"  ^** 
and  has  been  already  alluded  to  as  partly  bor- 
rowed or  pilfered  *  from  a  play .  of  Cervantes.  *  238 
In  its  first  scenes,  a  Morisco  of  Valencia  leaves 
the  land  where  his  race  had  suffered  so  cruelly,  and^ 
after  establishing  himself  among  those  of  his  own  faith 
in  Algiers,  returns  by  night  as  a  corsair,  and,  from  his 
familiar  knowledge  of  the  Spanish  coast,  where  he  was 
born,  easily  succeeds  in  carrying  off  a  numbei-  of 
Christian  captives.  The  fate  of  these  victims,  ancT  that 
of  others  whom  they  find  in  Algiers,  including  a  lover 
and  his  mistress,  form  the  subject  of  the  drama.  In  the 
course  of  it,  we  have  scenes  in  which  Christian  Spaniards 
are  publicly  sold  in  the  slave-market ;  Christian  chil- 
dren torn  from  their  parents  and  cajoled  out  of  their 
faith  ; "  and  a  Christian  gentleman  made  to  suffer  the 
most  dreadful  forms  of  martyrdom  for  his  religion  ;  —  in 
short,  we  have  set  before  us  whatever  could  most  pttin- 
fully  and  powerfully  excite  the  interest  and  s^nipathy 
of  an  audience  in  Spain  at  a  moment  when  such  multi- 

^  Comedias,    Tom.    IX.,    Barcelona,  "  Tliese  passages  are  nuH'li  indebted 

1618,  ft'.  27,  etc.  to  the    "Trato  de  Aigel  "  of  Ceivan- 

1"  Comedias,  Tom.  XXV.,  raiiigo(,'a,  tes. 
1647,  tr.  281,  etc. 


-280  THE    CAUTIVOS    DE    ARGEL.  [Peuiud  II. 

tildes  of  Spanish  families  were  mourning  the  captivity 
of  their  children  and  friends.^-  It  ends  with  an  ac- 
count of  a  play  to  be  acted  by  the  Christian  slaves  in 
one  of  their  vast  prison-houses,  to  celebrate  the  recent 
marriage  of  Philip  the  Third  ;  from  which,  as  well  as 
from  a  reference  to  the  magnificent  festivities  that 
followed  it  at  Denia,  in  which  Loj)e,  as  we  know,  took 
part,  we  may  be  sure  that  the  '•  Cautivos  de  Argel " 
was  written  as  late  as  1508,  and  prol)al)ly  not  much 
later.^^^ 

A  love-story  unites  its  rather  incongruous  materials 
into  something  like  a  connected  whole  ;  but  the  part 
we  read  with  the  most  interest  is  that  assigned  to 
-  Cervantes,  who  appears  under  his  family  name 
*  239  of  Saavedra,  without  *  disguise,  though  without 
any  mark  of  respect."  Considering  that  Lope 
took  from  him  some  of  the  best  materials  for  this  very 
piece,  and  that  the  sufferings  and  heroism  of  Cervantes 
at  Algiers  must  necessarily  have  been  present  to  his 
thoughts  when  he  composed  it,  we  can  hardh'  do  the 
popular  poet  any  injustice  by  adding,  that  he  ought 
either  to  have  given  Cervantes  a  more  dignified  part, 
and  alluded  to  him  with  tenderness  and  consideration, 
or  else  have  refrained  from  introducing  him  at  all. 

'2  See,  pfiimm,  Hacilo,  "  Historia  de  Matos  Fi-agoso,  and,  in  a  note,  tliat  of 

Argel"  (Madrid,  1612,  folio).     He  reck-  the  "Azote  de  su  Patria,"  by  Moreto. 

OTIS  the  number  of  C-hri.stian  cai)tive.s,  Cervantes,  speaking  as  the  eaptive  in 

'diietiy  Spaniards,  in  Algiei-s,  at  twenty-  Don  Qui.vote,  says  that  tliese  renegadoes 

five  thousand.  could  run  over  from  Tetuan  in  the  night. 

There   aif;    freijuent    intimations   in  and,  after  a  successful  fomy,  return  so 

8pani.sh  plays  of  the  return  of  renega-  as  to  sleep  at  home, 
does  from  Barbarj-  to  such  jioitions  of         i'  Lope,  Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  III.  p. 

the  coasts  of  their  native  land  a.s  were  377.      I  am  much  dispo.sed  to  think  the 

most  familiar  to  tliem,  for  the  pur[>ose  ]ilay  referred  to  as  acted  in  the  piisons 

■of  carrying  Christians  into   captivity  ;  of  .\lgiers  is  Loj>e's  own  moral  |ilay  of 

and  Lope  de  Vegji,   in  his  "  I'eregiino  the   "  Mariiage  of  the  Soul  to  Divine 

en   su   Patria,"    Libro  II.,  describes   a  Love,"  in  the  second  book  of  the  "  Pere- 

■particular  sj>ot  on  the  shores  of  Valen-  grino  en  su  Patiia." 
cia,  where  such  violences  had  often  oc-  **  The  pass;iges  in  which  Cervantes 

curred.     No  doubt  they  were  common.  occui's  are  on   If.    245,   2.'il,   and  csjk;- 

.See  further  the  account,  ;>'<.•!/,  in  Chapter  cially   262    and    277,    Coinedias,    Tom. 

^XV.,  of  the  "  Redeiitor  t^autivo"  of  XXV. 


Chap.   XVII.]  KELKUOUS    DHAMAS.  281 

The  tliree  forms  of  Lope's  dmma  wliich  have  thus 
far  been  considered,  and  whicli  are  nearly  jd^in  to  each 
other.^'*  were,  no  doubt,  the  spontaneous  productions 
of  his  own  genius  ;  modified,  indeed,  by  what  he  found 
already  existing,  and  by  the  taste  and  will  of  the  audi- 
ences for  whicli  he  wrote,  but  still  essentially  his  owu. 
Probably,  if  he  had  been  left  to  himself  and  to  the 
mere  influences  of  the  theatre,  he  would  have  ]ireferred 
to  write  no  other  dramas  than  such  as  would  naturally 
come  under  on^  of  these  divisions.  But  neither  he  nor 
his  audiences  w^ere  permitted  to  settle  the  whole  of  this 
question.  The  Church,  always  powerful  in  Spain,  but 
never  so  powerful  as  during  the  latter  part  of  the  reign 
of  Philip  the  Second,  when  Lope  was  just  rising  into 
notice,  was  offended  with  the  dramas  then  so  much  in 
favor,  and  not  without  reason.  Their  free  love-stories, 
their  duels,  and,  indeed,  their  ideas  generally  upon 
domestic  hfe  and  personal  character,  have,  unques- 
tionably, anything  but  a  Christian  tone.^''  A  contro- 
ls The  fusion  of  the  tliree  classes  may  History,  by  .Tovellaiios,  —  a  personages 
1>e  seen  at  a  glance  in  Lope's  line  play,  who  will  bt;  noticed  when  we  reach  the 
"  El  Mejor  Alcalde  el  Key,"  (Comedias,  period  dining  which  he  lived. 
Tom.  XXI.,  Madrid,  1635,)  founded  on  "As  for  myself,"  says  that  wise  an(T 

a  passage  in  the  fourth  part  of  the  faithi'ul  niagistiate,  "  I  am  persuaded 
"General  Chronicle"  (ed.  1604,  f.  327).  there  can  be  foun<l  no  proof  so  decisive 
The  hero  and  heroine  belong  to  the  of  the  di-gradation  of  our  taste  as  the- 
condition  of  peasants  ;  the  i)erson  who  cool  indifference  with  whicdi  we  tolerate 
makes  the  mischief  is  their  liege  lord  ;  the  r(!presentation  of  dramas,  in  whicli 
and,  from  the  end  of  the  second  act,  modesty,  the  gentler  affections,  good 
the  king  and  one  or  two  of  the  princi-  faith,  decency,  and  all  the  virtues  and 
pal  persons  about  the  court  play  lead-  principles  belonging  to  a  sound  mo- 
ing  parts.  On  the  whole,  it  ranks  vality,  are  openly  trampled  under  foot, 
technically  with  the  co/aedias  hcroic/is  Do  men  believe  that  the  innocence  of 
or  historkiks ;  and  yet  the  best  and  childhood  and  the  fervor  of  youth,  that 
most  important  scenes  are  those  re-  an  idle  and  dainty  nobility  and  an  ig- 
lating  to  common  life,  while  others  of  norant  ])opulace,  can  witness  without 
no  little  consequence  belong  to  the  class  injury  such  exam))les  of  effrontery  and 
of  capa  y  espada.  gi-ossness,    of  an    insolent    and    absurct 

1*^  How  the  Spanish  theatre,  as  it  ex-  affectation  of  honor,  of  contempt  of 
isted  in  the  time  of  Philip  IV.,  ouglit  justice  and  the  laws,  and  of  ]niblic  and 
to  have  been  regarded,  may  be  judged  jirivate  duty,  rc])rcs('nted  on  the  .stage 
by  the  following  remarks  on  such  of  its  in  the  most  lively  colors,  and  rendered 
jdays  as  continued  to  be  represented  at  attractive  by  th(!  enchantment  of  .sceni(-^ 
t-lie  end  of  the  eighteenth  century,  read  illusiocs  and  the  graces  of  music  and 
in    1796    to    the    Spanish  Academy   of      verse'!     Let  us,  then,   honestly  c<jnfess 


2S2 


KELIGIOUS    DRAMAS. 


[I'KIKUI.    II. 


*240  versv,  therefore,  *iiaturall\-  arose  coneeriiiiiu- 
their  hiwl'uhiess,  and  this  controversy-  was  con- 
tinued till  1598,  when,  In  a  royal  decree,  the  represen- 
tation of  secular  i)lays  in  Madrid  was  entii'elj  forbid- 
den, and  the  connnon  theatres  weie  closed  for  nearly 
tM'o  3'ears.^' 

Lope  was  compelled  to  accommodate  himself  to  this 
new  state  of  tilings,  and  seems  to  have  done  it  easily 
and  with  his  accustomed  address.  He  had,  as  we  have 
seen,  early  wi-itten  religious  plcu/,^,  like  the  old  Myste- 
ries and  Moralities ;  and  he  now  undertook  to  infuse 
their  spirit  into  the  more  attractive  forms  of  his 
*241  *  secular  drama,  and  thus  produce  an  entertain- 
•  ment  which,  while  it  might  satisty  the  popular 


the  triitli.  Sucli  a  theatre  is  a  jnihlit; 
miisaiice,  and  the  govenmient  has  no 
ju.st  alternative,  but  to  reform  it  or 
suppress  it  altogether."  Meniorias  de 
la  Acad.,  Tom.  V.  p.  ?97. 

Elsewhere,  in  the  .same  excellent  dis- 
couise,  its  autlior  shows  that  he  was 
by  no  means  insensible  to  the  poetical 
merits  of  the  old  theatre,  who.se  moral 
itiHuenccs  he  deprecated. 

"I  shall  always  be  the  first,"  he  .says, 
"to  confess  its  inimitable  beauties  ;  the 
freshness  of  its  inventions,  the  charm 
of  its  style,  the  flowing  natuiulness  of 
its  dialogue,  the  marvellous  ingenuity 
of  its  pl(jts,  the  ease  with  wiiicli  every- 
thing is  at  last  exjiiained  and  adjusted  ; 
the  briliant  interest,  the  humor,  the 
wit,  that  mark  every  ste|)  as  we  ad- 
vance ;  —  but  what  matters  all  this,  if 
thi.s  same  drama,  regarded  in  the  light 
of  truth  and  wisdom,  is  infected  with 
vices  and  corruptions  that  can  be  toler- 
ated neithe)-  by  a  sound  state  of  morals 
nor  by  a  wise  jtublic  poiii'v'"  Ibid., 
p.  413. 

"  V.  Pellicei-.  Ori'gcn  d.d  Teatro, 
Madrid,  1804,  12mo,  Tom.  I.  pp.  142- 
148.  Plays  were  i)roliihited  in  Barce- 
lona in  l.-)91  by  the  bishop;  but  the 
proiiiliition  was  not  long  respected,  and 
in  1;')97  was  renewed  with  increased 
eaniestiie.s.s.  Hisbe  y  Vidal,  Tiatado  de 
la.s  (.'omedias,  liaicelona,  lfil8.  12mo, 
f.  94;  —  u  curious  book,  attacking  the 


Spanish  theatre  with  more  dLscietion 
than  any  other  old  t)eatise  again.st  it 
that  I  have  lead,  but  not  with  much 
etl'ect.  Its  autlior  would  have  all  plays 
carefully  examined  and  expurgated  be- 
fore they  were  licensed,  and  then  would 
permit  them  to  be  performed,  not  by 
Iirofessional  actors,  but  by  ]ier.soiis  lie- 
longing  to  the  place  where  the  repre- 
sentation was  to  occur,  and  known  as 
i-espectable  men  and  decent  youths  ; 
for,  he  adds,  "when  this  was  done  for 
hundreds  of  years,  none  of  those  strange 
vi(;es  were  committed  that  are  the  con- 
sequence of  our  ])resent  modes."  (f. 
106.)  Bisbe  y  Vidal  is  a  pseudonynie 
for  Juan  Kerrer,  the  head  of  a  large 
congregation  of  devout  men  at  Barce- 
lona, and  a  per.son  who  was  so  much 
.scandalized  at  the  state  of  the  theatre 
in  his  time,  that  he  ]iul)]islied  this  at- 
tack on  it  for  the  beiietit  of  the  broth- 
erhood who.se  s])iritual  leader  he  was. 
(ToiTcsyAiiiat,  Biblioteca,  Art.  Ftnrr.) 
It  is  encumbered  with  theological  learn- 
ing ;  Init  less  so  than  other  similar 
works  of  the  time,  and  runs  into  ab- 
surdities worthy  the  bigotry  of  the  agi; 
and  the  ignoran(;e  of  the  peoi)le  ;  as, 
for  instance,  when  it  attributes  to  tlie 
drama  the  introduction  of  heresy — el 
mayor  mal  (pie  a  una  re]iublica  o  reyno 
le  )>uede  venir — ami  the  succe.ss  of 
Luther's  doctrines  in  (^leiniany.  Chaj). 
XI.     Ferrer  was  a  Jesuit. 


Chap.  XVII. ]       THE    NACIMIENTO    DE    ClIlll.STO.  28o 

audieuce.s  of  the  capital,  would  avoid  the  rebuke.s  oi" 
the  Church.  His  success  was  as  marked  as  it  had 
been  before  ;  and  tlie  new  varieties  of  form  in  whicli 
his  genius  now  disported  itself  v.ei-e  scarcely  less 
striking. 

His  most  obvious  resource  was  the  Scriptures,  to 
which,  as  they  had  been  used  more  than  four  centuries 
for  dramatic  purposes,  on  the  greater  religious  festivals 
of  the  Spanish  Church,  the  ecclesiastical  powers  could 
hardly,  with  a  good  grace,  now  make  objection.  Lope, 
therefore,  resorted  to  them  freeh^ ;  sometimes  con- 
structing dramas  out  of  them  which  might  be  mistaken 
for  the  old  Mysteries,  were  it  not  for  their  more 
poetical  character,  and  their  sometimes  approaching  so 
near  to  his  own  intriguing  comedies,  that,  but  for  the 
religious  parts,  they  might  seem  to  belong  to  the 
merely  secular  and  fiishionable  dheatre  that  had  jusi 
been  interdicted. 

Of  the  first,  or  more  religious  sort,  his  '"  Birth  of 
Christ"  maybe  taken  as  a  specimen.^^     It  is  divided 

^^  Coinedias,  Tom.  XXIV.,  Zaragoza,  to  Niiestro  Senor."     There  are  be.sides, 

1641,    ff.    110,    etc.      Such    plays    were  in  this  volume,  Xdcimicntos  attributed 

often    acted    at   Christma.s,    and   went  to  Oubillo  (f.  375)  and  Valdiviel.so  (f. 

under  the   name  of  Nacimientos ;  —  a  369). 

relique  of  the  old  dramas  mentioned  in  "Nacimientos"  continued  to  be  rep- 
the  "Partidas,"  and  written  in  various  resented  chiefly  in  pantomime  and  in 
forms  after  the  time  of  Juan  de  la  En-  private  hoxises  through  the  eighteentli 
zina  and  Gil  Vicente.  They  seem,  from  century,  and  into  the  nineteenth.  1 
hints  in  the  "  Viage  "  of  Roxas,  1602,  have  a  poetical  tract,  entitled  "  Disserm 
and  elsewhere,  to  have  been  acted  in  metrico  en  c^ue  se  manitiesta  un  Naci- 
private  houses,  in  the  churches,  on  the  miento  con  las  figuras  corresjjondientes 
public  stage,  and  in  the  streets,  as  they  segun  el  estilo  que  se  pratica  en  las 
happened  to  be  asked  for.  They  were  casas  j^articulares  de  este  corte,  ec,  j)or 
not  exactly  autos,  but  very  like  them,  D.  Antonio  Manuel  de  Cardenas,  Conde 
as  may  be  seen  from  the  "  Nacimiento  del  Sacro  Palacio,"  Madrid,  1766,  18mo. 
de  Christo"  by  Lope  de  Vega,  (in  a  cu-  It  is  in  the  ballad  style,  and  describes 
rious  volume  entitled  "  Navidad  y  Cor-  minutelj-  how  they  borrowed  the  Ma- 
pus  Chri-sti  Festejados,"  Madrid,  1664,  donna  and  child  from  a  convent,  the  ox 
4to,  f.  346), — a  drama  quite  diflerent  from  a  neighboring  village,  etc.  An- 
from  this  one,  though  bearing  the  same  other  similar  description,  but  in  qnhi- 
name;  and  (juite  different  from  another  tillas,  is  entitled  "  Liras  a  la  Eepre- 
Nacimiento  dc  Chrwto,  in  the  same  vol-  sentacion  del  Drama,  EI  Nacimiento, 
ume,  (f.  93,)  attributed  to  Lope,  and  IMcza  inedita  de  1).  J.  B.  Colonies," 
called  "Auto  del  Nacimiento  de  Chris-  Valencia,  1807,  18mo. 


284  THE    XACIMIENTO    UE    CIllUSTO.  [Pf.uiod  II. 

into  tlirce  acts,  and  Ijegins  in  Paradise,  immediately 
after  the  ereatioii.  The  first  scene  introduces  Satan, 
Pride,    Beaiily.    and    Envy;  —  Satan    a])pearing    with 

'"  dragon's  Aviny^s,  a  hiishv  wiu'.  and  al)ove  it  a 
*  242     serpent  s  *  head  "'  ;  and  Envy  carrying  a  heart 

in  her  hand  and  weai'ing  snakes  in  her  hair. 
After  some  discussion  aljout  the  creation,  Adam  and 
Eve  approacli  in  the  characters  of  King  and  Queen. 
Innocence,  who  is  the  ch)wn  and  wit  of  the  piece,  and 
Grace,  who  is  dressed  in  white,  come  in  at  the  same 
time,  and,  while  Satan  and  his  friends  are  hidden  in  a 
thicket,  hold  the  following  dialogue,  which  may  be 
regarded  as  characteristic,  not  only  of  this  particular 
drama.,  hut  of  tlie  whole  class  to  which  it  belongs:  — 

Adam.         Here,  LaJy  Queen,  upon  tliis  couelj  of  grass  and  flowers 

Sit  down. 
Innocence.  Well,  tliat  's  good,  i'  foith  ; 

He  calls  lier  Lady  Queen. 
Grace.  And  don't  you  see 

She  is  his  Avife  ;  flesh  of  his  flesh  indeed, 

And  of  his  bone  the  bone  ^ 
Innocence.  That 's  just  as  if 

You  said.  She,  through  his  being,  being  hath.  — 

What  dainty  compliments  they  pay  each  other ! 
Grace.  Two  persons  are  they,  yet  one  flesh  the}'  are. 

Innocence.   And  may  their  union  last  a  thousand  years, 

And  in  sweet  peace  continue  evermore  ! 
Grace.  The  king  his  father  and  his  mother  leaves 

For  his  fair  queen. 
Innocence.  And  leaves  not  overmuch, 

Since  no  man  yet  has  been  with  parents  born. 

But,  in  good  faith,  good  master  Adam, 

All  fine  as  you  go  on,  pranked  out  by  Grace, 

I  feel  no  little  trouble  at  your  course, 

Likp  that  of  other  princes  made  of  clay. 

But  I  admit  it  was  a  famous  trick. 

In  your  most  sovereign  Lord,  out  of  the  mud 

A  microcosm  nice  to  make,  and  do  it 

In  one  day. 
Grace.  He  that  the  greater  worlds  could  build 

By  his  commanding  power  alone,  to  him 

It  wa.s  not  much  these  lesser  works  on  earth 


CiiAP.  XYII.J       THE    NACIMIENTO    DE    CIIRISTO. 


285 


'J'o  il(j.      Am!  SIM'  yon  uot  the  two  great  lcUii]).s 
AVliiili  ovcilicM(l  lie  liiiiig  so  fail'  ! 
Innocence.  And  liow 

The  eai'tli  lie  sowcil  witli  llowci's,  the  licavi-ns  with  stars 'M^ 

*  Immediately  after  tlie  fall,  and  tliei-efoi-e,  *  243 
according  to  the  common  Scriptural  computa- 
tion, al)out  four  thousand  years  before  she  was  born, 
the  Madonna  appears  and  personally  drives  Satan  down 
to  perdition,  while,  at  the  same  time,  an  Angel  expels 
Adam  and  Eve  from  Paradise.  The  Divine  Prince  and 
the  Celestial  Emperor,  as  the  Saviour  and  the  Supreme 
Divinity  are  respectively  called,  then  come  upon  the 
vacant  stage,  and,  in  a  conference  full  of  theological 
subtilties,  arrange  the  system  of  man's  redemption, 
"which,  at  the  Divine  conunand,  Gabriel, — 

Accompanied  with  armies  all  of  stars 
To  fill  the  air  with  glorious  lightj^"  — 

descending  to  Galilee,  announces  as  about  to  be  accom- 
plished by  the  birth  of  the  Messiah.  This  ends  the 
first  act. 

The  second  opens  with  the  rejoicings  of  the  Serpent. 
Sin,  and  Death,  —  confident  that  the  World  is  now 
fairly  given  up  to  them.  But  their  rejoicings  are 
short.  Clarionets  are  sounded,  and  Divine  Grace  ap- 
pears on  the  upper  portion  of  the  stage,  and  at  once 
expels  the  sinful  rout  from  their  boasted  possessions ; 


l'-*  Adan.  Aqui,  Reyna,  en  esta  alfobra 
De  yerua  y  flores  te  assienta. 
Esso  a  la  fe  me  contenta. 
Reyna  y  Senora  la  nombra. 
Pues  no  ves  que  es  su  muger, 
Came  de  su  came  y  hueso 
De  sus  hucsos?     Ino.  Y  aa  por  esso, 
Porque  es  eomo  ser  su  ser. 
Linclos  requiebros  se  dizen. 
Dos  en  una  came  son . 
Dure  mil  ano.s  la  union, 

Y  en  esta  paz  se  eternizen. 
Por  Ii  Iteyna  dexari 
El  Key  a  su  padre  y  madre. 
Ninguno  nacii  eon  padre, 
Poco  en  dexarlos  hari  ; 

Y  i  la  fe,  Senor  Adan, 
Que  aunque  de  Grjieia  vizarro. 
Que  los  Principes  del  barro 


Inoc. 
Gra. 


Gra. 
Inoc. 


Gra. 
Inoc. 


Inoc 


Notable  pena  me  dan. 

Brauo  artiticii)  tenia 

Vuestro  soberano  duefio, 

Quando  un  niundo  aunque  pequeno 

Ilizo  de  barro  en  un  dia. 

Quie  los  dos  mundos  mayores 

Pudo  haeer  con  su  palabra, 

Que  mucho  que  niiii|ia  y  abra 

En  la  tierra  estas  labores. 

No  ves  las  laini)aras  bcllas, 

Que  de  los  cielos  colpjo  ? 

Conio  de  flores  scmbro 

La  tierra ,  el  cielo  de  cstrellas . 

Comedias  de  Lope  de  Vepra.  Tom 
XXIV.,  Zaragoza,  1G41,  f.  HI. 

2"  Baxa  esdareciendo  el  ayre 
Con  exercitos  de  estrella*;. 


286  THE    NACIMIENTO    DE    CHKISTO.  [Peuiou  II. 

explaining  afterwards  to  the  World,  avIio  now  comes 
on  as  one  of  the  personages  of  the  scene,  that  the 
Holy  Faniil}-  are  immediately  to  bring  salvation  to 
men. 

The  World  replies  with  rapture  :  — 

O  holy  Grace,  already  I  behold  them  ; 
And,  though  the  freezing  night  forbids,  will  haste 
To  border  round  my  hoar  frost  all  with  flowers  ; 
To  force  the  tender  buds  to  sj)ring  again 
*  244  *  From  out  their  shrunken  branches  ;  and  to  loose 

The  gentle  streamlets  from  the  hill-tops  cold, 
That  they  may  pour  their  liipiid  crystal  down  ; 
While  the  old  founts,  at  my  command,  shall  flow 
AVith  milk,  and  ash-trees  honey  pure  distil 
To  satisfy  our  joyful  appetites. -i 

The  next  scene  is  in  Bethlehem,  where  Josei)h  and 
Mary  appear  begging  for  entrance  at  an  inn,  bat,  owing 
to  the  crowd,  they  are  sent  to  a  stable  just  outside  the 
city,  in  whose  contiguous  fields  shepherds  and  shep- 
herdesses are  seen  suffering  from  the  frosty  night,  but 
jesting  and  singing  rude  songs  about  it.  In  the  midst 
of  their  troubles  and  merriment,  an  angel  appears  in 
a  cloud  announcing  the  birth  of  the  Saviour;  and  the 
second  act  is  then  concluded  by  the  resolution  of  all  to 
g-o  and  find  the  divine  child  and  carrv  him  their  glad 
salutations. 

The  last  act  is  chiefly  taken  up  with  discussions 
of  the  same  subjects  by  the  same  shepherds  and  shep- 
herdesses, and  an  account  of  the  visit  to  the  mother 
and  child  ;  some  parts  of  which  are  not  without  poeti- 
cal merit.  It  ends  with  the  appearance  of  the  three 
Kings,   preceded  by   dances  of  Gypsies   and   Negroes, 

21  Ciracia  s.inta,  ya  los  veo.  Bajen  los  arroyos  niansos 

Voy  i  hazer  ijiie  aquesta  not-he,  liiciuido  cristal  vertiendo. 

Aunqun  lo  deficnda  el  yclo,  Hare  que  las  fuentes  manen 

Borden  la  esrarrha  la.->  flores,  Candida  loche,  y  los  fresnos 

Salpan  los  ipinipollos  tiernos  Pun  niiel,  diluvios  dulces, 

De  las  enro'ri  las  ninias.  Que  aneiruen  nuestros  despos. 
Y  de  los  nionUs  soberbios                              Comedias,  Tom.  XXIV. ,  Zaragoza,  1641 .  f.  llti 


C'HAi'.  X\  ll.J       THE    XACIMIEXTO    DE    CIIKIS'I'O.  287 

and  witli  the  worsliip  and   offerings  brought    by  call  to 
the  new-born  Saviour. 

Such  dramas  do  not  seem  to  have  been  favorites 
with  Lope,  and  perhaps  were  not  favorites  with  his 
r.udiences.  At  least,  few  of  them  appear  among  his 
[)rinted  works ;  —  the  one  just  noticed,  and  another, 
called  "  The  Creation  of  the  World  and  Man's  First 
Sin,"  being  the  most  prominent  and  curious  ;^^  and  one 
on  the  atonement,  entitled  '^'  The  Pledge  Redeemed," 
being  tlie  most  wild  and  gross.  But  to  the  proper 
xstories  of  the  Scri^Dtures  he  somewhat  oftener  resorted, 
and  with  characteristic  talent.  Thus,  we  have 
full-length  plays  on  *  the  history  of  Tobias  and  *  245 
the  seven-times-wedded  maid ;  "'^  on  the  fair 
Esther  and  Ahasuerus ;  ^  and  on  the  somewhat  un- 
suitable subject  of  the  Ravishment  of  Dinah,  the 
daughter  of  Jacob,  as  it  is  told  in  the  Book  of 
Genesis.^^  In  all  these,  and  in  the  rest  of  the  class  to 
which  they  belong,  Spanish  manners  and  ideas,  rather 
than  Jewish,  give  their  coloring  to  the  scene ;  and 
the  story,  though  substantially  taken  from  the  Hebrew 
records,  is  thus  rendered  much  more  attractive,  for 
the  purposes  of  its  representation  at  Madrid,  than  it 
would  have  been  in  its  original  simplicity;  as,  for  in- 
stance, in  the  case  of  the  "Esther,"  where  a  comic  un- 
derplot between  a  coquettish  shepherdess  and  her  lover 
is  much  relied  upon  for  the  popular  effect  of  the 
whole.^*^ 

2^  It  is  in  the  twenty-fourtli  voluiuf  Tom.   XXIII. ,   Madrid,   1638,   ff.    118, 

of  the  Comedias  of  Lope,  Madrid.  16:5 -2,  etc.     To   this   may  he   added   a   hetter 

and  is  one  of  the  very  few  of  his  re-  one,    in   Tom.    XXII.,    Mailiid,    1635, 

ligious  plays  that  have  been  occasion-  "Los  Trabajos  de  Jacob,"  on  the  beau- 

idly  reprinted.  tifnl  stoiy  of  Joseph  and  his  l)iethrcn. 

is  "  Historia  de  Tobias,"  Comedias,  ^  Thennderjilot  is  slightly  connect- 

Tom.  XV.,  Madrid,  1621,  ff.  231,  etc.  ed  with  tlie  main  story  of  Esther,  by  a 

-*  "La    Hermo.sa   Ester,"   Ibid.,    ff.  proclamation oHving Ahasuerus,  calling 

lol,   etc.  iM'fore  liini  all  the  fair  maidens  of  his 

^  "El    Kobo    de    Diua,"    Coniedia-,  empire,   which,    coming  to  the  ears  of 


288 


OTIIEK    EEJ^Kilors    I'l.AVS. 


rPKP.TOn  II. 


Still,  oven  these  dramas  were  not  able  to  satisfv 
audiences  accustomed  to  the  more  national  spirit  of 
plays  founded  on  fashiona1:)le  life  and  intriguing  adven- 
tures. A  wider  range,  therefore,  was  taken.  Sti'iking 
religious  events  of  all  kinds  —  especially  those  found 
in  the  lives  of  holy  men  —  were  resorted  to,  and  in- 
genious stories  were  constructed  out  of  the 
*  24G  *  miracles  and  sufferings  of  saints,  which  were 
often  as  interesting  as  the  intrigues  of  Span- 
ish gallants,  or  the  achievements  of  the  old  S])anish 
heroes,  and  were  sometimes  hardly  less  free  and  wild. 
Saint  Jerome,  under  the  name  of  the  "  Cardinal  of 
Bethlehem,"  is  brought  upon  the  stage  in  one  of  them, 
first  as  a  gay  gallant,  and  afterwards  as  a  saint  scourged 
by  angels,  and  triumphing,  in  open  show,  over  Satan.-" 
In  another,  San  Diego  of  Alcala  rises,  from  being  the 
attendant  of  a  poor  hermit,  to  be  a  general  with  mili- 
tary command,  and,  after  committing  most  soldier-like 
atrocities  in  the  Fortunate  Islands,  returns  and  dies  at 
home  in  the  odor  of  sanctitv."^     And  in  vet  others,  his- 


Silena,  the  shepherdess,  she  insists 
upon  leaving  her  lover,  Selvagio,  and 
trying  the  fortune  of  her  beauty  at 
court.  She  fails,  and  on  her  return  is 
rejected  by  Selvagio,  but  still  main- 
tains her  cO(|uettish  sjiirit  to  tlie  last, 
and  goes  off  saying  or  singing,  as  gayly 
as  if  it  were  part  of  an  old  ballad,  — 

For  the  Tulture  that  flies  apart, 

I  left  my  little  t>ird"s  nest : 
But  n\\\  I  can  soften  his  heart, 

-Vnd  5O0the  down  his  pride  to  rest. 

The  best  parts  of  the  play  are  the  more 
religious  ;  like  Esther's  prayers  in  the 
first  and  last  acts,  and  the  ballad  sung 
at  the  triunijdiant  festival  when  Ahasu- 
erus  jields  to  her  beauty ;  but  the 
whole,  like  many  other  plays  of  the 
same  sort,  is  intended,  under  the  dis- 
guise of  a  sacred  suV)ject,  to  serve  the 
purjtoses  of  the  secular  theatre. 

Perhaps  one  of  the  most  amusing 
instances  of  incongruity  in  Lope,  and 
their  number  is  not  few,  is  to  be  found 


in  the  first  jornadn  of  the  ' '  Trabajos 
de  Jacob,"  where  Joseph,  at  the  mo- 
ment he  escapes  from  Potiphar's  wife, 
leaving  his  cloak  in  her  possession,  says 
in  soliloijuy  :  — 

So  niayest  thou,  woman-like,  upon  my  cloak 
Thy  vengeance  wreak,  as  the  bull  wreaks  his 

\vrath 
Upon  the  cloak  before  hinj  played  ;  the  man 
Meanwhile  escaping  safe. 

Y  assi  haras  en  essa  capa, 
(;on  venfjanza  de  muger, 
Lo  que  el  toro  suele  hacer 
Del  hombre  que  se  escapa . 

Yet,  absurd  as  the  passage  is  for  its  in- 
congruity, it  may  have  been  loudly  ap- 
])lauded  by  an  audience  that  thought 
much  more  of  bull-fights  than  of  the 
just  rules  of  the  drama. 

■■"  "  Kl  ("ardcnal  dc  Belen,"  Comcdi- 
as,  To7n.  .Xlll.,  Madrid,  Iti'iO. 

^  This  jilay  is  not  in  the  collection 
of  Lope's  C'omedias,  but  it  is  in  Lord 
Holland's  list.  My  copy  of  it  is  an  old 
one,  without  date,  printed  for  popular 


<  iiAi'.  XVI].]  COMEDIAS    DE    SANTOS.  289 

torieal  subjects  of  a  relisj^ioiis  character  are  taken,  like 
the  story  of  the  holy  liainha  torn  Ironi  the  plough  in 
the  seventh  centuiy.  and  by  miraculons  conunand 
made  king  of  Spain  ; -•*  or  like  the  life  of  the  Moham- 
medan prince  of  Morocco,  who,  in  1593,  was  converted 
to  Christianity  and  publicly  baptized  in  presence  of 
Philip  the  Second,  Avitli  the  heir  of  the  throne  for  his 
godfather.'^'* 

All  these,  and  many  more  like  them,  were  repre- 
sented with  the  consent  of  the  ecclesiastical  powers,  — 
sometimes  even  in  convents  and  other  religious  houses, 
but  oftener  in  public,  and  always  mider  auspices  no 
less  obviously  religions;^^  The  favorite  mate- 
rials for  such  dramas,  *  however,  were  found,  at  *  247 
last,  almost  exclusively  in  the  lives  of  popular 
saints ;  and  the  number  of  plays  filled  witli  such  his- 
tories and  miracles  was  so  great,  soon  after  the  year 
1600,  that  they  came  to  be  considered  as  a  class  by 
themselves,  under  the  name  of  "  Comedias  de  Santos," 
or  Saints'  Plays.     Lope  wrote  many  of  them.     Besides 

use  at  Valladolid.     And  1  have  it,  also,  Christiano,  por  el  P.  Fr.  Donato  Cian- 

iu    the    "Comedias    Escogidas,"'   Tom.  tar,   ec,   traducida  de  Toscano  en  Es- 

III.,  1653,  f.  222.  panol,  en  Sevilla,  por  Juan  Gomez  de 

29  "Comedias,"  Tom.  I.,  Valladolid,  Bias,  Ano  de  1646,"  4to,  pp.  4  ; — averj' 

1604,  ff.  91,  etc.  curious  tract,  which  justities  much  in 

^  "  Bautismo  del  Principe  de  Mar-  the  play  of  Lope  that  seems  improbable, 
ruecos,"  in  which  there  are  nearly  sixty  ^^  C.  Pellicer,  On'gen,  Tom.  I.  p.  153. 
]ier.sonages.  Comedias,  Tom.  XL,  Bar-  When  Francisco  de  Borja  was  canonized 
rrlona,  1618,  tf.  269,  etc.  C.  Pellicer,  in  1625,  there  were  great  festivities  for 
On'gen  del  Teatro,  Tom.  I.  p.  86.  Such  several  days,  and  the  Jesuits,  of  whose 
a  baptism  —  and  one  brought  on  the  society  he  had  been  a  proud  oruanient, 
stage,  too  —  soxinds  very  strange  ;.  but  caused  a  play  on  his  life  to  be  acted  iu 
strange  things  of  the  sort  occurred  oc-  a  theatv(»  belonging  to  them  at  ISLidrid  ; 
casionally  from  the  intimate  relations  Philip  IV.  and  the  Infantes  being  pres- 
that  often  subsisted  between  the  Chris-  ent.  Who  wrote  the  play  I  do  not 
tian  captives  in  Barbary  and  their  mis-  know,  for  the  account  of  the  festival, 
believing  masters.  For  instance,  in  intending,  perhaps,  to  pun,  onl}-  says  : 
1646,  the  oldest  son  of  the  Bey  of  "Por  ser  e\  Autor  de  la  Compania,  la 
Tunis  escaped  to  Palermo,  for  the  ex-  mode-stia  le  venera  en  silencio."  A 
press  pur})ose  of  becoming  a  Christian,  masque  followed  ;  a  poetical  certam.en, 
and  was  there,  with  great  ceremony,  etc.  ;  —  but  all  under  religious  auspices. 
received  into  the  bosom  of  the  Church.  Elogio  del  S.  P.  Francisco  de  Borja, 
See  "  Relacion  de  la  Venida  a  Sirilia  Duque  de  Gandia,  ec,  por  el  Docttor 
del  Principe  Mamet,  hijo  primogenito  Juan  Antonio  d<^  Pena,  Natural  de  Ma- 
de Amat  Dey  de  Tunis,  a  volver.se  drid,  1625,  4to,  f.  6,  etc. 
VOL.   II.                         19 


290 


THE    bA-\    IS^IDIJU    DK    .MADltlU. 


[Pekiod  If. 


those  ah'eady  mentioned,  wo  liave  from  his  pen  di-a- 
niatic  compositions  on  the  hves  of  Saint  Francis,  San 
Pedro  de  Xohisco,  Saint  Thomas  Aqninas,  Saint  JuUan. 
Saint  Xichohis  of  Tolentino,  Santa  Teresa,  three  on 
San  Isidro  de  Madrid,  and  not  a  few  othci's.  Maiiv  of 
tliem,  hke  Saint  Nicholas  of  Tolentino,'^^  are  very 
strange  and  extravagant ;  others  are  full  of  poetry ; 
but  perhaps  none  will  give  a  more  true  idea  of  the 
entire  class  than  the  first  one  he  wrote,  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  favored  saint  of  his  own  city,  San  Isidi-o 
de  Mad  rid. -^'^ 

It  seems  to  have  all  the  vai-ieties  of  action  and 
character  that  belong  to  the  secular  divisions  of  the 
Spanish  drama.      Scenes  of   stirring  interest  occur  in 

it  among  warriors  just  returned  to  Madrid  from 
*  248    a    *  successful    foray   against    the    Moors;     gay 

scenes,  with  rustic  dancing  and  frolics,  at  the 
marriage  of  Isidro  and  the  birth  of  his  son  ;  and  scenes 
of  broa<l  farce  with  the  sacristan,  who  c()iii])laiiis.  that, 
owing  to   Isi(h-o's  j^ower  with   Heaven,  he   no    longer 


^■^  "San  Nicolas  de  Toleutino,"  Co- 
meilias,  Tom.  XXIV.,  Zaragoza,  1641, 
ff.  167,  etc.  Each  act,  as  is  not  un- 
common in  the  old  Spanish  theati'e,  is 
a  sort  of  separate  play,  with  its  sepa- 
rate list  of  personages  prefi.ved.  The 
lirst  has  twenty-one  ;  among  wliich  are 
God,  the  Madonna,  History,  Mercy, 
Justice,  Satan,  etc.  It  opens  with  a 
masquerading  scene  in  a  public  s(piare, 
of  no  little  spirit  ;  immediately  after 
which  we  have  a  scene  in  heaven,  con- 
taining the  Divine  judgment  on  the 
soul  of  one  who  bad  died  in  mortal  sin  ; 
then  another  s[)irited  scene,  in  a  jmblic 
Sfpiare,  among  loungers,  with  a  sennon 
Iroin  a  fervent,  fanatical  monk  ;  and 
■  aftei'wartls,  successive  scenes  between 
Nicholas,  who  lias  been  moved  by  this 
.sermon  to  enter  a  convent,  and  his  fam- 
ily, wlio  consent  to  his  imrjiosc  with 
reluctaiH-*'  ;  the  wlioli-  iiiding  with  a 
dialogue  of  the  ni<li'st  liunior  between 
Xichola.s's  si-rvant,  wiio  is  tlie  buffoon 


of  the  piece,  and  a  sei"vant-maid,  to 
whom  he  was  engaged  to  be  married, 
but  whom  he  now  abandons,  deter- 
ndned  to  follow  his  master  into  a  re- 
ligious .seclusion,  wluch,  at  the  .same 
time,  he  is  making  lidiculous  b\'  his 
jests  and  paiodies.  This  is  the  first 
act.  The  other  two  acts  are  such  as 
might  be  anticipated  from  it. 

*^  This  is  not  either  of  the  plays  or- 
dered by  the  city  of  Madri<l  to  be  acted 
ill  the  open  air  in  1622,  in  honor  of  the 
canonization  of  San  Isidro,  and  found 
in  the  twelfth  volume  of  Lope's  Obras 
Sueltas  ;  tliough,  on  a  comparison  with 
the.se  last,  it  will  be  seen  tiiat  it  was 
used  in  their  composition.  It,  in  fact, 
wa.s  printed  five  years  earlier,  in  the 
.seventh  volume  of  Lope's  Comedias, 
Madrid,  1617,  and  continued  long  in 
favor,  for  it  is  rc))rinted  in  Parte 
XXVIII.  of  "  CdiiJi'dias  Esc-ogidas  de 
los  Mejores  Ingenii»s,''  Madrid,  1667, 
4to. 


CiiAi'.   XVII. J         THE    SAX    ISIDKO    1)K    .MADIMI).  291 

gets  l\'i'y<  for  burials,  mid  that  ho  believes  Death  is 
gone  to  l'\  '3  elsewhere,  l^iit  through  the  whole  runs 
the  loving  and  devout  character  of  the  Saint  iiiinself, 
giving  it  a  sort  of  poetical  unity  and  ])o\ver.  The 
ano'els  come  down  to  iilouuh  for  him,  that  he  ma\'  no 
lonu'er  incur  reproach  b\'  nei>'le(!tin('"  his  laboi's  in 
order  to  attend  mass  ;  and  at  the  touch  of  his  uoad, 
a  spring  oi'  pure  water,  still  looked  upon  with  rever- 
ence, rises  in  a  burning  waste  to  refresh  his  unjust 
master.  Popular  songs  and  poetry,  meanwhile,^*  with 
a  parody  of  the  old  Moorish  ballad  of  ''  Gentle  River, 
(lentle  River," '^^  and  allusions  to  the  holy  image  of 
Almudena,  ard  the  church  of  Saint  Andrew,  give  life 
to  the  dialogue,  as  it  goes  on ;  —  all  familiar  as  house- 
hold w^ords  at  Madrid,  and  striking  chords  which,  wdien 
this  drama  was  first  represented,  still  viljrated  in  every 
heart.  At  the  end,  the  body  of  the  Saint,  after  his 
death,  is  exposed  before  the  well-know^n  altar  of  his 
favorite  church ;  and  there,  according  to  the  old  tra- 
ditions, his  former  master  and  the  queen  come  to  wor- 
ship him,  and,  with  pious  sacrilege,  endeavor  to  bear 
away  from  his  person  relics  for  their  own  protection ; 
but  are  punished  on  the  spot  by  a  miracle,  which  thus 
serves  at  once  as  the  final  and  crowning  testimony  to 
the  divine  merits  of  the  Saint,  and  as  an  appropriate 
dhiouement  for  the  piece. 

No  doubt,  such  a  drama,  extending  over  forty  or 
fifty  years  of  time,  with  its  motley  crowd  of  person- 
ages,—  among  whom   are    angels   and  demons,  Envy, 

**  A  spirited  ballad  or  popular  song  I^  dan  pan ,  le  aan  cebolla, 

is  simg  and  danced  at  the  vouug  Saint's  "^  ^'°°  taml.ien  1,.  <lan,  etc. 

.vedding,  beginning,—     "  Comedias,  Tom.  xxvni.,  1G67,  p.  54. 

Al  Tillano  se  lo  dan  35  Rio  verde,  rio  verdo, 

La  cehoUa  con  el  pan.  Jilas  negro  va.s  que  la  tinta 

Mira  que  el  tosco  villano,  De  sangre  de  los  Chri.stianos, 

Quando  (juiera  alborear,  Que  no  de  la  Moreria. 

Saiga  con  .su  par  de  bui^yes  p.  60. 

Y  su  :  ra<io  otro  que  tal. 


292  AUTOS    SA(;IJAMEXTALES.  |l'i;i;i..i.   11. 

Falsehood,  and.  the  River  Manzanaics.  —  would 
*  249    now  be   accounted  *  grotesque    and    irrevereut. 

rather  than  anything  else.  But  in  the  time  of 
Lope,  the  audiences  not  only  brought  ii  willing  faith 
to  such  representations,  but  received  gladly  an  exhi- 
bition of  the  miracles  which  connected  the  saint  they 
worshipped  and  his  beneficent  virtues  Avith  their  own 
times  and  their  personal  well-being. ''^'^  If  to  this  we 
add  tlie  restraints  on  the  theatre,  and  Lope's  extraor- 
dinary facility,  grace,  and  ingenuity,  Avhich  never 
failed  to  consult  and  gratify  the  jjopular  taste,  we 
shall  have  all  the  elements  necessary  to  explain  the 
great  niunber  of  religious  dramas  he  composed,  whether 
in  the  nature  of  Mysteries,  Scrij^ture  stories,  or  lives  of 
saints.  Thev  belono-ed  to  his  ao;e  and  countrv  as  much 
as  he  himself  did. 

But  Lope  adventiu'ed  with  success  in  another  form 
of  the  drama,  not  only  more  grotesque  than  that  of 
the  full-length  religious  plays,  but  intended  yet  more 
directly  for  popular  edification,  —  the  '"  Autos  Sacra- 
mentales,"  or  Sacramental  Acts,  —  a  sort  of  religious 
])lays  performed  in  the  streets  during  the  season  when 
the  gorgeous  ceremonies  of  the  "  Corpus  Christi  "  filled 
them  with  rejoicing  crowds.'^'  No  form  of  the  Spanish 
drama  is  older,  and  none  had  so  long  a  reign,  or  main- 
tained during  its  continuance  so  strong  a  hold  on  the 

^  How  far  these  Jihu's  were  felt  to  cret;  or  ;i  judgiin-iit  of  a  eourt.  After- 
be  religious  by  the  crowds  who  wit-  wards  it  was  ajijilied  to  these  religious 
nessed  them  may  be  seen  in  a  thousand  dramas,  which  weic  called  Autos  sacra- 
ways;  ajnong  the  rest,  by  the  fact  men-  mentnles,  or  Autos  del  Corpus  Christi, 
tioned  by  >Iadame  d'Aulnoy,  in  1679,  and  to  the  aiitos  de  fe.  of  the  Inquisi- 
that,  when  St.  Anthony,  on  the  stage,  tion  ;  in  both  cases,  because  they  wen- 
repeated  his  Cinifiteor,  the  audience  all  considered  solemn  religious  aits,  (.'o- 
fell  on  their  knees,  smote  their  breasts  varrubias,  Tesoro  de  la  Lengua  Castel- 
heavily,  and  cried  out,  MfA,  culpd.  lana,  ad  verb.  Auto.  For  the  early 
Voyage  d'Espagne.  A  la  Haye,  1693,  history  of  the  procession  and  for  the 
18mo,  Tom.  I.  p.  56.  management  of  the  Alogigone.s,  the  Ta- 

^  .^?'to  was  originally  a  forensic  tenii,  rasca,  etc.,  see  Bibliotecario,  1841,  fol., 

from   the   Latin  uc/as,  and  meant  a  de-  jiji.  2.1-27. 


Chap.  XVII.]  AUTOS    SACRAMENTALES.  293 

general  favor.  Its  representations,  as  we  have  already 
seen,  may  be  found  among  the  earliest  intimations  of 
the  national  literature  ;  and,  as  we  shall  learn  hei-e- 
after,  they  were  with  difficulty  suppressed  by  the  royal 
anthorit}^  after  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
In  the  age  of  Lope,  and  in  that  immediately  following, 
they  were  at  the  height  of  their  success,  and  had 
become  an  important  *part  of  the  religious  cere-  *  250 
monies  arranged  for  the  solemn  sacramental  festi- 
val to  which  they  were  devoted,  not  only  in  Madrid,  but 
throughout  Spain ;  all  the  theatres  being  closed  for  a 
month  to  give  place  to  them  and  to  do  them  honor.'^^ 

Yet  to  our  apprehensions,  notwithstanding  their  re- 
ligions claims,  they  are  almost  wholly  gross  and  irrev- 
erent. Indeed,  the  very  circumstances  under  which 
they  were  represented  would  seem  to  prove  that  they 
were  not  regarded  as  really  solemn.  A  sort  of  rude 
mumming,  which  certainly  had  nothing  grave  about  it, 
preceded  them,  as  they  advanced  through  the  thronged 
streets,  where  the  windows  and  balconies  of  the  better 
sort  of  houses  were  hung  with  silks  and  tapestries  to 
honor  the  occasion.  First  in  this  extraordinary  pro- 
cession came  the  figure  of  a  misshapen  marine  monster, 

^^  Great  splendor  was  used,  from  the  indecent.  In  fact,  tliey  were  finally  for- 
earliest  times  down  to  the  present  cen-  bidden  as  such  by  Charles  III.  in  1765. 
tury,  in  the  processions  of  the  Corpus  The  wonder  is  that  in  a  state  of  society 
Christi  throughout  Spain  ;  as  may  lie  claiming  to  be  Christian  they  were  sus- 
judged  from  the  accounts  of  them  in  tained  alike  by  the  Church  and  the 
Valencia,  Seville,  and  Toledo,  in  the  civil  power;  for  in  1609,  Mariana,  in 
Semanario  Pintoresco,  1839,  p.  167;  his  treatise  "  DeSpectaculis,"  had  made 
1840,  p.  187  ;  and  1841,  p.  177.  In  it  plain  enough  that  they  were  unwor- 
those  of  Toledo,  there  is  an  intimation  thy  all  such  countenance.  In  the  Span- 
that  Lope  de  Rueda  was  employed  in  ish  version  of  this  remarkable  treatise, 
the  dramatic  entertainments  connected  made  by  the  great  historian  liimself,  I 
with  them  in  1561  ;  and  that  Alonso  find  one  more  chapter  (the  twelfth)  in 
Cisneros,  Cristobal  Navarro,  and  other  which  he  says  that  the  most  gi-oss  of 
known  writers  for  the  rude  popular  all  the  dances  (the  zara.bnnda)  was  pei'- 
stage  of  that  time,  were  his  successors  ;  formed  in  the  Corpus  Christi  ceremo- 
—  all  serving  to  introduce  Lope  and  nies  of  the  autos  witli  all  its  indecent 
Calderon.  gestures.     See^ws^,  p.  452,  note,  for  the 

But,  at  all  periods,  from  first  to  last,  Zarabanda. 
the  proper  autos  were  rude,  gross,  and 


294  AUTOS    SACRx^MEXTALES.  [Vnnum  11. 

called  the  Tarasca,  half  serpent  \\\  form.  l)()rne  l)y  men 
concealed  in  its  cumbrous  bulk,  and  sunnounted  In* 
another  figure  representing  the  Woman  of  Btdndon. — 
the  whole  so  managed  as  to  fill  Avitli  wonder  and  terror 
the  poor  country  people  that  crowded  round  it.  some 
of  whose  hats  and  caps  were  generally  snatched  away 
by  the  grinning  beast,  and  regarded  as  the  lawful 
plunder  of  his  conductors.^ 

Then  followed  a  company  of  fair  children,  witli  gar- 
lands on  their  heads,  singing  hynnis  and  litanies  of  the 
Church;  and  sometimes  companies  of  men  and  women 
with  castanets,  dancing  the  national  dances.  Two  or 
more  huge  Moorish  or  negro  giants,  commonly  called 
the  Gigantones,  made  of  pasteboard,  came  next,  jump- 
ing about  grotesquely,  to  the  great  alarm  of  some  of 

the  less  experienced  part  of  the  crowd,  and  to 
*  251    the  *  great  amusement  of  the  rest.     Then,  with 

much  pomp  and  fine  music,  appeared  the  jDriests, 
bearing  the  Host  under  a  splendid  canopy ;  and  after 
them  a  long  and  devout  procession,  where  was  seen,  in 
Madrid,  the  king,  with  a  taper  in  his  hand,  like  the 
meanest  of  his  subjects,  together  with  the  great  officers 
of  state  and  foreign  ambassadors,  who  all  crowded  in 
to  swell  the  splendor  of  the  scene.^  Last  of  all  came 
showy  cars,  filled  wath  actors  from  the  public  theatres, 
who  were  to  figure  on  the   occasion,  and   add   to   its 

8^  Pellicer,  notes  D.   Quixote,  Toiu.  period  of  Lojje's  success ;  aiul  a  fancy 

IV.  pp.  105,  106,  and  Covarnibias,  ut  drawing  of  the  proce.s.sion,   as  it  may 

siqyra,  ad  verb.    Tarasca.     The  pojm-  have  appeared  at  Madrid  in  1623,  is  to 

lace  of  Toledo  called  the  woman  on  the  he  found  in  the  Senianario  Pintoresco, 

Tarasca,    Anne    Boleyn.      Sem.    Pint.,  1846,  p.  185.     But  Lope's  loa  is  the 

1841,  p.  177.  hest  authority.     A  good  authority  for 

*<*  The  most  lively  description  I  liave  it,  as  it  was  got  uj)   in   the  provinces, 

seen  of  this  i)roces!5ion  is  contained  in  may  lie  found  in  Ovando's  jwetical  de- 

the  loa  to  Lopez's  first  fesUi  and   aido  scrijrtion  of  it  at  Malaga  in  1655,  where, 

(Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  XVIII.  ]i]).  1  -7).  among  other  irreligious  extravagances, 

Another  description,  to  suit  the  festival  (!y])sies   with    tanilwurines   danced   in 

as  it  was  got  UJ)  altout  1655  -  166.'),  will  the  jirocession.     Ocios  de  Ca.stalia  por 

be  found  when  we  come  to  C'alderon.  .Tuan  deOvando  Santarem,  4to,  Mahiga, 

It  is  given  here  as  it  occuiTed  in  the  1663,  f.  87,  ec. 


Cjiai'.  XVII.]  AUTOS    SACKAMENTALES.  295 

attractions,  if  not  to  its  solemnity;  —  personages  who 
constituted  so  important  a  part  of  the  day's  fes- 
tivity, that  the  whole  was  often  called,  in  popular 
phrase,  The  Festival  of  the  Cars,  —  "  La  Fiesta  de  los 
Garros.'"" 

This  procession  —  not,  indeed,  magnificent  in  the 
towns  and  hamlets  of  the  provinces,  as  it  was  in  the 
capital,  but  always  as  imposing  as  the  resources  of  the 
place  where  it  occurred  could  make  it  —  stopped  from 
time  to  time  under  awnings  in  front  of  the  house  of 
some  distinguished  person,  —  perhaps  that  of  the 
President  of  the  Council  of  Castile  at  Madrid,  per- 
haps that  of  the  alcalde  of  a  village,  —  and  there 
waited  reverently  till  certain  religious  offices  could 
be  performed  l)y  the  ecclesiastics ;  the  multitude^ 
all  the  while,  kneeling,  as  if  in  church.  As  soon 
as  these  duties  were  over,  or  at  a  later  hour  of  the 
day,  the  actors  from  the  cars  appeared  on  a  neigh- 
boring stage,  in  the  open  air,  and  performed,  accord- 
ing to  their  limited  service,  the  sacramental  auto 
prepared  for  the  occasion,  and  always  alluding  to 
it  directly.  Of  such  aiitos,  we  know,  on  good  au- 
thority, that  Lope  wrote  about  four  hundred.*^ 
Of  these  above  thirty  *  are  still  extant,  in-  *  2-52 
eluding  several  in  manuscript,  and  a  consid- 
erable number  which  were  published  only  that  the 
towns  and  villages  of  the  interior  might  enjoy  the 
same  devout  pleasures  that  were  enjoyed  by  the 
court  and  capital ;  —  so  universal  was  the  fanaticism 
for  this  strange  form  of  amusement,  and  so  deeply 
was  it  seated  in  the  popular  character.  Even  Lope, 
on  his  death-bed,  told  Mental  van,   that  he   regretted 

*^  A  good  idea  of  the  contents  of  the      II.    c.    11,)   as  he  was  returning  from 
carro  may  be  found  in  the  deseiiption      Tohoso. 
of  the  one  met  by  Don  Quixote,  (Parte  *^  Montalvan,  in  liis  Fama  Pustuma^ 


296 


AUTOS    SACRAMEXTALES. 


[Period  II. 


lie  had  not  given  his  whole  Hfe  to  writhig  auio^  and 
other  .similar  religious  poetry.*^ 

At  an  earlier  period,  and  perhaps  as  late  as  the 
time  ol"  Lope's  first  appearance,  this  part  of  the 
festival  consisted  of  a  very  shnple  exhibition-,  accom- 
panied with  rustic  songs,  eclogues,  and  dancing,  such 
as  we  find  it  in  a  large  collection  of  manuscript 
liii/os,  of  which  two  that  have  been  pul)lished  are 
slight  and  rude  in  their  structure  and  dialogue,  and 
.seem  to  date  from  a  })eriod  as  early  as  that  of  Lope  ;  ^* 
but  during  his  lifetime,  and  chiefly  under  his  influ- 
ence, it   became    a    formal    and   well-defined    popular 

entertainment,  divided   into  three    parts,  each 
*  2-33    of  which  *  was  quite  distinct  in  its  character 

from  the  others,  and  all  of  them  dramatic. 


'^  Preface  of  Joseph  Ortis  de  Villena, 
prefixed  to  the  Autos  in  Tom.  XVIII. 
of  the  Obras  Sueltas.  They  were  not 
])rinted  till  1644,  nine  yeai-s  after  Lope's 
death,  and  then  they  apjieared  at  Zai-a- 
goza.  One  other  mito,  attributed  to 
Lope,  "  El  Tirano  Ca.stigado,"  occurs  in 
a  very  rare  volume,  entitled  "Navidad  y 
Coi-pusChri.sti  Fe.stejado.s,"  collected  by 
Isidro  de  Robles,  and  already  referred  to. 

The  whole  number  of  Lope's  mito.i 
as  given  by  Chorley  is  :  printed  and 
umpiestionable,  18  ;  others,  more  or 
less  uncertain,  26,  except  three  which 
are  autographs. 

**  Tlie  manu.script  collection  men- 
tioned in  the  text  was  ac([uired  by  the 
National  Library  at  Madiid  in  1844. 
It  fills  468  leaves  in  folio,  and  contains 
ninety-five  dramatic  pieces.  All  of 
them  are  anonymous  exce|)t  one,  which 
i".  said  to  be  by  Maestro  Femiz,  and  is 
on  the  subject  of  (Iain  anil  Al)el  ;  and 
all  Imt  one  .seem  to  be  on  religious  .sub- 
jects. Thi.s  last  is  called  "  Entrem/is 
<le  las  Esteras,"  and  is  the  only  one 
Iw-arinc  that  title.  The  rest  are  called 
<'')fiH]in'os,  Farsa-t,  and  Aulas;  nearly 
all  fjeing  i-,alled  /iiiios,  but  .some  of  them 
Ffima.s  dd  Sru.rn.m/'.nl/),  which  .seems  to 
have  1>een  regarded  a.s  .synonymous. 
One  onl)'  is  dated.  It  is  called  "  Auto 
lie  la  ResuiTeccion  de  Christo,"  and  is 
licensed  to  be  acted  March  28,   1568. 


Two  have  been  published  in  the  Museo 
Literario,  1844,  by  Don  Eugenio  de 
Tapia,  of  the  Royal  Libraiy,  Madrid, 
one  of  the  well-known  Spanish  scholars 
and  writei"s  of  our  own  time.  The  first, 
entitled  ' '  Auto  de  los  Dt.sposorios  de 
Moisen,"  is  a  very  slight  jierfonnauce, 
and,  except  the  Prologue  or  Argument, 
is  in  prose.  The  other,  called  "Auto 
de  la  Kesidencia  del  Hombre,"  is  no, 
better,  but  is  all  in  verse.  In  a  subse- 
quent number,  Don  Eugenio  publishes 
a  complete  list  of  the  titles,  with  the 
figuras  or  jiersonages  that  apjiear  in 
each.  It  is  much  to  be  desired  that 
all  the  contents  of  this  MS.  .should  be 
properly  edited.  Meanwliilc,  we  know 
that  sayneten  were  sometimes  interyjosed 
between  diflerent  parts  of  the  perform- 
ances ;  that  allegorical  pei'.sonages  were 
abundant  ;  and  that  the  Bubo  or  Fool 
constantly  recurs.  Some  of  them  were 
jirobably  earlier  than  the  time  of  Lope 
de  Vega  ;  jn-rhaps  a.s  early  as  the  time 
of  Lojk;  de  Rueda,  who,  as  I  have  al- 
ready .said  in  note  38,  ante,  may  have 
prepared  autoa  of  some  kind  for  the  city 
of  Toledo,  in  1.561.  But  the  language 
and  vei-silication  of  the  two  jiieces  that 
have  been  jiiinfcil,  and  the  general  air  of 
the  fiction.s  and  allegories  of  the  rest,  sij 
far  as  we  can  gather  them  from  what  has 
been  jiublislied,  indicate  a  jieriod  nearly 
or  i[uite  as  late  as  that  of  Li)]m;  de  Vega. 


CiiAr.  XYII.]  AUTOS    SACEAMENTALES.  2'J7 

Fir.^t  of  all,  in  its  more  completed  state,  came  the 
loa.  This  was  always  in  the  nature  of  a  prologue  ; 
but  sometimes,  in  ibrm,  it  was  a  dialogue  spoken  by 
two  or  more  actors.  One  of  the  best  of  Lope's  is 
of  this  kind.  It  is  filled  with  the  trou})les  of  a 
peasant  who  has  come  to  Madrid  in  order  to  see 
these  very  shows,  and  has  lost  his  wife  in  the  crowd ; 
but,  just  as  he  has  quite  consoled  himself  and  satisfied 
his  conscience  by  determining  to  have  her  cried  once 
or  twice,  and  then  to  give  her  up  as  a  lucky  loss  and 
take  another,  she  comes  in  and  describes  with  much 
spirit  the  wonders  of  the  procession  she  had  seen, 
precisely  as  her  audience  themselves  had  just  seen  it  ; 
thus  making,  in  the  form  of  a  prologue,  a  most  amus- 
ing and  appropriate  introduction  for  the  drama  that 
was  to  follow.'*^  Another  of  Lope's  has  is  a  discussion 
between  a  gay  gallant  and  a  peasant,  who  talks,  in 
rustic  fashion,  on  the  subject  of  the  doctrine  of  tran- 
substantiation.*''  Another  is  given  in  the  character  of 
a  Morisco,  and  is  a  monologue,  in  the  dialect  of  the 
speaker,  on  the  advantages  and  disadvantages  of  his 
turning  Christian  in  earnest,  after  having  for  some 
time  made  his  living  fraudulently  by  begging  in  the 
assumed  character  of  a  Christian  pilgrim."*'  All  of 
them  are  amusing,  though  burlesque  ;  but  some  of 
them  are  anything  rather  than  religious. 

After  the  loa  came  an  cntremes.  All  that  remain  to 
us  of  Lope's  entremeses  are  mere  farces,  like  the  inter- 
ludes used  every  day  in  the  secular  theatres.     In  one 

*^  This  is  the  first  of  the  loas  in  the  and  refers  me,  for  proof,  to  tlie  ricface: 

volume,  and,  on  the  whole,   the  best.  of  the  Comedias,   Tom.   VI II.,  and  to- 

My  friend,  Mr.  J.  K.  Chorley,  whose  the   Prologo  of  Pando  y  Mier  to  the 

knowledge  of  Spanish  literature,   and  Autos  of  Calderon.     I  have  no  doubt 

especially  of  whatever  relates  to  Lope,  he  is  right.     For  an  account  of  Xoa.v, 

is  so  ample  and  accurate,  doubts  wheth-  see  post.  Chap.  XXVI. 

er  the  loas  that  have  been  published  *^  ObrasSueltas,  Tom.  XVIII.  ]).  367. 

among  Lope's  Works  are  all  really  his,  *^  Ibid.,  p.  107. 


298  AUTOS    SACRAMEXTALES.  [Peuiod  II. 

instance  he  makes  an  enfremes  a  satire  upon  lawyers,  in 
Avhicli  a  member  of  the  craft,  as  in  the  old  French 
^■'  Maistre  Pathelin,"  is  cheated  and  robbed  by  a  seem- 
ingly simple  peasant,  who  first  renders  him  ex- 
*  254  tremely  *  ridiculous,  and  then  escapes  hy  dis- 
guising himself  as  a  blind  ballad-singer,  and 
dancing  and  singing  in  honor  of  the  festiyal,  —  a 
conclusion  which  seems  to  be  peculiarly  irreverent  for 
this  particular  occasion.'^^  In  another  instance,  he 
ridicules  the  poets  of  his  time  hy  bringing  on  the 
.stage  a  lady  who  pretends  she  has  just  come  from  the 
Indies,  with  a  fortune,  in  order  to  marry  a  poet,  and 
succeeds  in  her  purpose;  but  both  find  themselves 
deceived,  for  the  lady  has  no  income  but  such  as  is 
gained  by  a  pair  of  castanets,  and  her  husband  turns 
out  to  be  a  ballad-maker.  Both,  however,  have  good 
sense  enough  to  be  content  with  their  bargain,  and 
agree  to  go  through  the  world  together  singing  and 
dancing  ballads,  of  which,  by  way  of  finale  to  the 
entremes,  they  at  once  give  the  crowd  a  specimen.*'^ 
Yet  another  of  Lope's  successful  attempts  in  this  wa}' 
is  an  interlude  containing  within  itself  the  representa- 
tion of  a  play  on  the  story  of  Helen,  which  reminds 
US  of  the  similar  entertainment  of  Pyramus  and  Thisbe 
in  the  "  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  "  ;  but  it  breaks 
off  in  the  middle,  —  the  actor  who  plays  Paris  running 
jiway  in  earnest  with  the  actress  who  plays  Helen,  and 
the  piece  ending  with  a  burlesque  scene  of  confusions 
and  reconciliations.'^'^  And  finally,  another  is  a  parody 
of  tlie  procession  itself,  with  its  giants,  cars,  and  all; 
treating  the  whole  with  the  gayest  ridicule.^^ 

*«  01)ras  Sueltas,  Torn.  XVIII.  p.  8.  '^>  IhM.,  j..  108.      "El  Robo  dc  He- 

*' Entn-iiics  df'l  I/^trado."  lena." 

*'*  Iliiil.,    J).    114.       "Entremes    del  5i  jiji,!^   j,    373       "Muestra  de  lo.s 

Poeta."  Carros." 


CiiAi'.  XVII.]  AUTOS    SACRAMENTALES.  299 

Thus  far,  all  has  heen  avowedly  comic  in  the  dra- 
matic exhibitions  of  these  religious  festivals.  But  the 
aiitos  or  sacramental  acts  themselves,  with  which  the 
whole  concluded,  and  to  which  all  that  preceded  was 
only  introductory,  claim  to  be  more  grave  in  their 
general  tone,  though  in  some  cases,  like  the  prologues 
and  interludes,  parts  of  them  are  too  whimsical  and 
extravagant  to  be  anything  but  amusing.  "The 
Bridge  of  the  World  "  is  one  of  this  class.^^  It  repre- 
sents the  Prince  of  Darkness  placing  the  giant  Levia- 
than on  the  bridge  of  the  world,  to  defend  its 
j)assage  against  all  *  comers  wdio  do  not  con-  *  255 
fess  his  supremacy.  Adam  and  Eve,  who,  as 
we  are  told  in  the  directions  to  the  players,  appear 
"  dressed  very  gallantly  after  the  French  fashion,"  ai'e 
naturally  the  first  that  present  themselves.^^  They 
subscribe  to  the  hard  condition,  and  pass  over  in  sight 
of  the  audience.  In  tlie  same  manner,  as  the  dialogue 
informs  us,  the  patriarchs,  with  Moses,  David,  and  Solo- 
mon, go  over  ;  but  at  last  the  Knight  of  the  Cross, 
"  the  Celestial  Amadis  of  Greece,"  as  he  is  called, 
appears  in  person,  overthrows  the  pretensions  of  the 
Prince  of  Darkness,  and  leads  the  Soul  of  Man  in  tri- 
umpli  across  the  flital  passage.  The  whole  is  obviously 
a  parody  of  the  old  story  of  the  Giant  defending  the 
Bridge  of  Mantible;^"^  and  when  to  this  are  added  paro- 
dies of  the  ballad  of  "Count  Claros  "  applied  to  Adam/^ 

^^   It   is   the    last    in    the    collection,  Yen-os  Adan  por  amores 
and,  as  to  its  poetry,  one  of  the  best  of  '^'^'"'^  '^o"  '!<'  perdonar,  etc. ; 
the  twelve,  if  not  the  very  best.  which  is  out  of  the  beautiful  and  well- 
s'^ The    direction    to    the   actors    is,  known  old  ballad  of  the  "CondeClaro.s," 
"Salen  Adan  y  Eva  vestidos  de  Fran-  beginning  "  Pe.same  de  vos,  el  Conde," 
ceses  muy  galanes."  which  has  been  already  noticed,  aide, 
5*  See  Historia  del  Emperador  Carlos  Vol.    I.    p.    109.     It   must  have  been 
Magno,  Cap.  26,  30,  etc.  perfectly  familiar  to  many  persons  in 
55  The  giant  says  to  Adam,  referring  Lope's  audience,  and  how  the  allusion 
to  the  temptation  :  —  to  it  could  have  produced  any  other 

than  an  irreverent  effect  I  know  not. 


300  AUTOS    SACRAMEXTALES.  [Pep.iod  II. 

aud  of  other  old  ballads  applied  to  the  Saviour,^*''  the 
confusion  of  allegory  and  farce,  of  religion  and  folly, 
seems  to  be  complete. 

Others  of  the  autos  are  more  uniformly  srrave.  "  The 
Harvest "  is  a  spiritualized  version  of  the  parable  in 
Saint  Matthew  on  the  Field  that  was  sowed  with  Good 
Seed  and  with  Tares/'  and  is  carried  through  with 
some  degree  of  solemnity ;  but  the  unhappy  tares, 
that  are  threatened  with  being  cut  down  and  cast 
into  the  fire,  are  nothing  less  than  Judaism,  Idolatry, 
Heresy,  and  all  Sectarianism,  who  are  hardly  to  be 
saved  from  their  fate  by  their  conversion  through  the 
mercy  of  the  Lord  of  the  Harvest  and  his  fair  spouse, 
the  Church.  However,  notwithstanding  a  few  such 
absurdities  and  awkwardnesses  in  the  allegory,  and 
some  very  misplaced  compliments  to  the  reigning 
royal  family,  this  is  one  of  the  best  of  the  class 
*  256  to  which  it  belongs,  and  *  one  of  the  most 
solemn.  Another  of  those  open  to  less  re- 
proach than  usual  is  called  '"The  Return  from  Eg^q^t,"^ 
which,  with  its  shepherds  and  gypsies,  is  not  without 
the  grace  of  an  eclogue,  and,  with  its  ballads  and  popu- 
lar songs,  has  some  of  the  charms  that  belong  to  Lope's 
secular  dramas.  These  two,  with  "The  Wolf  turned 
Shepherd,"  ^^ — which  is  an  allegory  on  the  subject  of 
the  Devil  taking  upon  himself  the  character  of  the 
true  shepherd  of  the  flock,  —  constitute  as  fair,  or  per- 
haps, rather,  as  favorable,  specimens  of  the  genuine 
Spanish  aido  as  can  be  found  in  the  elder  school.  All 
of  them  rest  on  the  grossest  of  the  jDrevailing  notions 

^  Tlic  addross  of  the  jiiusic,  "Si  dor-  excellent  translation  in  Dolini's  Span- 
mis,  Principe  ruio,"  refers  to  the  bal-  ischeDramen,  Berlin,  1841,  8vo,  Tom.  I. 
lads  about  those  whose  lady-loves  had  ^  "  La  Vuelta  de  Egj'pto,"  Obi-as, 
been  carried  captive  among  the  Moors.  Tom.  XVI II.,  p.  43.5. 

^'  "La  Siega,"  (Obras  Suelta.s,  Tom.  ^^  "El  Pa.stor  Lobo  y  Cabana  Celes- 

XVIII.  p.   .328,)  of  which  there  is  an  tial,"  Ibid.,  p.  381. 


CiiAr.   XVII.]  ENTREMESES.  301 

in  religion  ;  all  of  them  appeal,  in  every  way  they  can, 
whether  light  or  serious,  to  the  popular  feelings  and 
prejudices ;  many  of  them  are  imbued  with  the  spirit 
of  the  old  national  ])oetry;  and  these,  taken  together, 
are  the  foundation  on  which  their  success  rested,  —  a 
success  which,  if  we  consider  the  religious  object  of  the 
festival,  was  undoubtedly  of  extraordinary  extent  and 
extraordinary  d in^ation. 

But  the  entremeses  or  interludes  that  were  used  to 
enliven  the  dramatic  part  of  this  rude,  but  gorgeous 
ceremonial,  were  by  no  means  confined  to  it.  They 
were,  as  has  been  intimated,  acted  daily  in  the  public 
theatres,  where,  from  the  time  when  the  full-length 
dramas  were  introduced,  they  had  been  inserted  be- 
tween their  different  divisions  or  acts,  to  afford  a 
lighter  amnsement  to  tlie  audience.  Lope  wrote  a 
great  number  of  them ;  how  many  is  not  known. 
From  their  slight  character,  however,  hardly  more 
than  thirty  have  been  preserved,  and  some  of  those 
that  bear  his  name  are  probably  not  his.  But  we 
have  enough  that  are  genuine  to  show  that  in  this, 
as  in  the  other  departments  of  his  drama,  popular 
effect  was  chiefly  sought,  and  that,  as  everywhere  else, 
the  flexibility  of  his  genius  is  manifested  in  the  variety 
of  forms  in  which  it  exhibits  its  resources.  Generally 
speaking,  those  we  possess  are  written  in  prose,  are 
very  short,  and  have  no  plot;  being  merely  farcical 
dialogues  drawn  from  common  or  vulgar  life. 

The  "  Mehsendra,"  however,  one  of  the  first 
published,  *  is  an  exception  to  this  remark.     It    *  257 
is  composed  almost  entirely  in  verse,  is  divid- 
ed into   acts,  and  has  a  loa  or  prologue; — in  short,  it 
is  a  parody  in  the  form  of  a  regular  phiy,  founded  on 
the  story  of  Gayferos  and  Melisendra  in  the  old  bal- 


302  ENTREMESES.  [Pkkiod  II. 

lads.®'  The  "  Padre  Enganado,"  which  Ilolcroft  brought 
upon  the  English  stage  under  the  name  of  "  The  Father 
Outwitted,"  is  another  exception,  and  is  a  lively  farce 
of  eight  or  ten  pages,  on  the  ridiculous  troubles  of  a 
father  who  gives  his  own  daughter  in  disguise  to  the 
verv  lover  from  whom  he  supposed  he  had  carefully 
shut  her  up.*^^  But  most  of  them,  like  "  The  Indian," 
"The  Cradle,"  and  "The  Robbers  Cheated,"  would 
occupy  hardly  more  than  fifteen  minutes  each  in  their 
representation, — slight  dialogues  of  the  broadest  farce, 
continued  as  long  as  the  time  between  the  acts  would 
conveniently  permit,  and  then  abruptly  terminated  to 
give  place  to  the  principal  drama.*^  A  vigorous  spirit, 
and  a  popular,  rude  humor  are  rarely  wanting  in  them. 
But  Lope,  whenever  he  wrote  for  the  theatre,  seems 
to  have  remembered  its  old  foundations,  and  to  have 
shown  a  tendency  to  rest  upon  them  as  much  as  pos.- 
sible  of  his  own  drama.  This  is  apparent  in  the  very 
ent?'emeses  we  have  just  noticed.  They  are  to  be  traced 
back  to  Lope  de  Rueda,  whose  short  farces  were  of  the 
same  nature,  and  were  used,  after  the  introduction  of 
dramas  of  three  acts,  in  the  same  way.*^'^  It  is  apparent, 
too,  as  we  have  seen,  in  his  moral  and  allegorical  plays, 
in  his  sacramental  acts,  and  in  his  dramas  taken  from 
the  Scripture  and  the  lives  of  the  saints ;  all  founded 
on  the  earlier  Mysteries  and  Moralities.  And  now 
we  find   the   same   tendency  again   in  yet  one  more 

60  Prinieia Parte  de Entienif scs,  "En-  ^2  ^^11  three  of  these  pieces  are  in  tlie 

treines  Primero  de  Meli.sendi-a,"  Conic-  same  vohune. 

dias,   Tom.    I.,   Valladolid,   1604,   4to,  ^^  "Lope  de  Rueda,"  says  Lope  de 

H'.  333,  etc.     It  is  founded  on  the  fine  Vega,    "was  an  example  of  these  pre- 

old  ballads  of  the  Romancero  of  1550-  cepts  in  Spain  ;  for  from  him  has  come 

1."j55,  "Asentado  esta  Gayferos,"  etc.  ;  down  the  custom  of  calling  the  old  pla5-s 

the   .same   out   of  whidi"  the    puppet-  Entremescs."    (Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  IV. 

sliow  man  made  his  exhibition  at  the  p.    407.)      A    single    scene   taken    out 

inn  before  Don  Quixote,   Parte  II.  c.  and  used  in  this  way  as  an  entrcmes 

26.  was  called  a  Paso  or  "passage."     We 

81  Comedias,  Valladolid,   1604,  Tom.  have  noted  such  by  Lope  de   Rueda, 

I.  p.  337.  etc.     See  ante,  pp.  48,  53. 


Chap.  XVII.]  DRAMATIC    ECLOGUES.  303 

class,  that  of  his  eclogues  *and  pastorals,  —  a  *  258 
form  of  the  drama  which  may  be  recognized  at 
least  as  early  as  the  time  of  Juan  de  la  Enzina.  Of 
these  Lope  wrote  a  considerable  number,  that  are  still 
extant,  —  twenty  or  more,  —  not  a  few  of  which  bear 
distinct  marks  of  their  origin  in  that  singular  mixture 
of  a  bucolic  and  a  religious  tone  that  is  seen  in  the 
first  beginnings  of  a  public  theatre  in  Spain. 

Some  of  the  eclogues  of  Lope,  w^e  know,  were  per- 
formed;  as,  for  instance,  "The  Wood  and  no  Love  in 
it,"  —  Selva  sin  Amor,  —  wdiich  was  represented  with 
costly  pomp  and  much  ingenious  apparatus  before  the 
king  and  the  royal  family.*^  Others,  like  seven  or 
eight  in  his  "Pastores  de  Belen,"  and  one  published 
under  the  name  of  "  Tome  de  Burguillos,"  —  all  of 
which  claim  to  have  been  arrano-ed  for  Christmas  and 
■different  religious  festivals,  —  so  much  resemble  such 
as  we  know  were  really  performed  on  these  occasions, 
that  we  can  hardly  doubt  that,  like  those  just  men- 
tioned, they  also  were  represented.^^  While  yet  others, 
like  the  first  he  ever  published,  called  the  "  Amorosa," 
and  his  last,  addressed  to  Philis,  together  with  one  on 
the  death  of  his  wife,  and  one  on  the  death  of  his  son, 
were  probably  intended  only  to  be  read.'^'^  But  all 
may  have  been  acted,  if  we  are  to  judge  from  the 
habits  of  the  age,  when,  as  w^e  know,  eclogues  never 
destined  for  the  stage  were  represented,  as  much 
as  if  they  had    been   expressly  written  for  it.^'     At 

"  Obras,  Tom.  I.  p.  225.    The  seen-  463  ;  Tom.  X.  p.  193  ;  Tom.  IV.  p.  430 ; 

ery    and    machines    were    by    Cosmo  and  Tom.  X.  p.  362.     The  last  eclogue 

Lotti,  a  Florentine  architect ;  and,  as  contains  nearly  all  we  know  about  his 

Stirling   says,    "they    astonished    the  son,  Lope  Felix. 

courtly  audience  by  their  beauty  and  ^^  See  the  scene  in  the  Second  Part 

ingenuity."      Artists   of  Spain,    1848,  of  Don  Quixote,  where  some  gentlemen 

Vol.  II.  p.  566.  and  ladies,  for  their  own  entertainment 

^  Obras,   Tom.    XVI.,  prt55«H,    and  in  the  country,  were  about  to  represent 

XIX.  p.  278.  the  eclogues  of  Garcilasso  and  Camoens. 

^*'  For  these,  see  Obras,  Tom.  III.  p.  In  the  same  way,   I  think,  the  well- 


304 


DRAMATIC    ECLOGUES. 


[PrnioD  11. 


*  259  any  rate,  all  Lope's  compositions  of  *  this  kind 
show  how  gladly  and  freely  his  genius  oxcv- 
flowed  into  the  remotest  of  the  many  forms  of  the 
drama  that  were  either  popular  or  permitted  in  his 
time. 


known  eclogue  which  Lope  dedicated 
to  Antonio  Duke  of  Alva,  (Obras,  IV. 
J).  295, )  that  to  Amaryllis,  wliich  was 
the  longest  he  ever  wrote,  (Tom.  X.  p. 
147,)  that  tor  the  Prince  of  Esi|uilache, 
(Tom.  I.  p.  352,)  and  nio.st  of  those  in 
the  "Arcadia,"  (Tom.  VI.,)  were  acted, 
and  written  in  order  to  be  acted.  Why 
the  poem  to  his  friend  Claudio,  (Tom. 
IX.  p.  355,)  which  is  in  fact  an  account 
of  some  passages  in  his  own  life,  witli 
nothing  pastoral  in  its  tone  or  form,  is 
called  "  an  eclogue,"  I  do  not  know, 
unless  he  went  to  the  Greek  eKXoyv; 


nor  will  I  undertake  to  assign  to  any 
l)articiilar  class  the  "Military  Dialogue 
in  Honor  of  the  Marquis  of  E.sjdnola," 
(Tom.  X.  p.  337, )  though  I  think  it  is 
dramatic  in  its  structure,  and  was  j>rob- 
ably  represented,  on  some  show  occa- 
sion, before  the  ^Marquis  himself.  Such 
representations  occurred  in  other  coun- 
tries about  the  same  period,  but  rarely, 
1  think,  of  a  bucolic  nature.  One, 
however,  is  mentioned  by  that  princi^ 
of  gossips,  Tallemant  des  Reaux,  in  his 
notice  of  "La  Pre.sidente  Perrot,"  as 
l^erformed  in  Paris,  iu  a  jjrivate  house. 


*CHAPTEE    XVIII.  *260 

LOPE    DE    VEGA,  COXTIXUED. HIS    CHARACTERISTICS    AS    A   DRAMATIC  WRITER. 

HIS    STORIES,  CHARACTERS,  AND   DIALOGUE. HIS    DISREGARD    OF    RULES, 

OF    HISTORICAL    TRUTH,    AND    MORAL    PROPRIETY.  HIS    COMIC    UNDERPLOT 

AND    GRACIOSO. HIS     POETICAL     STYLE     AND     MANNER. HIS     FITNESS     TO 

WIN     GENERAL     FAVOR. HIS     SUCCESS. HIS     FORTUNE,     AND     THE     VAST 

AMOUNT    OF    HIS    WORKS. 

The  extraordinary  variety  in  the  character  of  Lope's 
dramas  is  as  remarkable  as  their  number,  and  contrib- 
uted not  a  little  to  render  him  the  monarch  of  the 
stage  while  he  lived,  and  the  great  master  of  the 
national  theatre  ever  since.  But  though  this  vast 
variety  and  inexhaustible  fertility  constitute,  as  it 
were,  the  two  great  corner-stones  on  which  his  success 
rested,  still  there  were  other  circumstances  attending 
it  that  should  b}^  no  means  be  overlooked,  when  we  are 
examining,  not  only  the  surprising  results  themselves, 
but  the  means  by  which  they  were  obtained. 

The  first  of  these  is  the  principle  which  may  be  con- 
sidered as  running  through  the  whole  of  his  full-length 
plays,  —  that  of  making  all  other  interests  subordinate 
to  the  interest  of  the  story.  Thus,  the  characters  are 
a  matter  evidently  of  inferior  moment  with  him  ;  so 
that  the  idea  of  exhibiting  a  single  passion  giving  a 
consistent  direction  to  all  the  energies  of  a  strong  will, 
as  in  the  case  of  Richard  the  Third,  or,  as  in  the  case 
of  Macbeth,  distracting  them  all  no  less  consistently, 
does  not  occur  in  the  whole  range  of  his  dramas. 
Sometimes,  it  is  true,  though  rarely,  as  in  Sancho 
Ortiz,  he  develops  a  marked  and  generous  spirit,  with 

VOL.   II.  20 


306  CHARACTER  OF  LOPE  DE  VEGA's  DRAMA.      [Pkuiod  IL 

distinctive   lineaments ;  but   in  no  case   is  tliii^ 


* 


261  the  *  main  object,  and  in  no  case  is  it  done  with, 
the  appearance  of  an  artist-Hke  skill  or  a  delib- 
erate 2)urpose.  On  the  contrary  a  great  majority  of 
his  characters  are  almost  as  much  standing  masks  as 
Pantalone  is  on  the  Venetian  stage,  or  Scapin  on  the 
French.  The  jwimer  r/alan,  or  hero,  all  love,  honor,  and 
jealousy  ;  the  duimi,  or  heroine,  no  less  loving  and 
jealous,  but  yet  more  rash  and  heedless ;  and  the 
]jrother,  or  if  not  the  brother,  then  the  harba,  or  old 
man  and  father,  ready  to  cover  the  stage  with  blood, 
if  the  lover  has  even  been  seen  in  the  house  of  the 
heroine,  —  tliese  recur  continually,  and  serve,  not  only 
in  the  .secular,  but  often  in  the  religious  pieces,  as  the 
fixed  points  round  which  the  different  actions,  with 
their  different  incidents,  are  made  to  revolve. 

In  the  same  way,  the  dialogue  is  used  chiefly  to 
bring  out  the  plot,  and  hardly  at  all  to  bring  out  the 
characters.  This  is  obvious  in  the  long  speeches, 
sometimes  consisting  of  two  or  three  hundred  verses, 
wliich  are  as  purely  narrative  as  an  Italian  novella,  and 
often  much  like  one  ;  and  it  is  seen,  too,  in  the  crowd 
of  incidents  that  compose  the  action,  Avhich  not  infre- 
quently fails  to  find  space  sufficient  to  spread  out  all 
its  ingenious  involutions,  and  make  them  easily  intelli- 
gible ;  a  difficulty  of  which  Lope  once  gives  his  audi- 
ence fair  warning,  telling  them  at  the  outset  of  the 
piece,  that  they  must  not  lose  a  syllable  of  the  first 
explanation,  or  they  will  certainly  fail  to  understand 
the  curious  plot  that  follows. 

Obeying  the  same  principle,  he  sacrifices  regularity 
and  congruity  in  his  stories,  if  he  can  Ijut  make  them 
interesting.  His  longer  plays,  indeed,  are  regularly 
divided  into  three  jornadas,  or  acts  ;  but  this,  though 


CiiAr.  XVTII.]   CHARACTER  OF  LOPE  DE  VEGA's  DRAMA.        307 

he  claims  it  as  a  iiiei'it,  is  not  an  an-angeiueiit  of  his 
own  invention,  and  is,  moreover,  merely  an  arbitrary 
mode  of  producing  the  pauses  necessary  to  the  con- 
venience of  the  actors  and  spectators  ;  panses  which, 
in  Lope's  theatre,  have  too  often  nothing  to  do  with 
the  structure  and  proportions  of  the  piece  it- 
self^ As  for  the  six  plays  which,  *  as  he  inti-  *  262 
mates,  were  written  according  to  the  rules, 
Spanish  criticism  has  sought  for  them  in  vain;^  nor 
do  any  of  them,  probably,  exist  now,  if  any  ever 
existed,  unless  "  La  Melindrosa  "  —  The  Prude  —  may 
have  been  one  of  them.  But  he  avows  xe^y  honestly 
that  he  regards  rules  of  all  kinds  only  as  obstacles  to 
his  success.  '"  When  I  am  going  to  write  a  play,"  he 
says,  "  I  lock  up  all  precepts,  and  cast  Terence  and 
Plautus  out  of  my  study,  lest  they  should  cry  out 
against  me,  as  truth  is  wont  to  do  even  from  such 
dumb  volumes  ;  for  I  write  according  to  the  art  in- 
vented by  those  who  sought  the  applause  of  the  mul- 
titude, w^hom  it  is  but  just  to  humor  in  their  folly, 
since  it  is  they  who  pay  for  it."  ^ 

The  extent  to  Avhich,  following  this  principle,  Lope 
sacrificed  dramatic  j)robabilities  and  possibilities,  geog- 

1  This  division  can  be  traced  back  to  yielding  to  vulgar  taste  and  popular 
a  jjlay  of  Francisco  de  Avendano,  1553.      ignorance. 

L.  F.   Moratin,  Obras,   1830,  Tom.    I.  ^  ^i-^g   :N'uevo   de   Hacer   Comedias, 

Parte  I.  p.  182.  Obras,  Tom.  IV.  p.   406.     And  in  the 

2  "Except  six,"  says  Lope,  at  the  Dedication  of  "Lo  Cierto  por  lo  Du- 
end  of  his  "  Arte  Nuevo,"  "all  my  four  doso,"  speaking  of  dramas,  he  says: 
hundred  and  eighty-three  i>lays  have  "En  Espana  no  tienen  preceptos." 
offended  gravely  against  the  rules  [el  When,  however,  he  published  the 
arte]."  See  Montiano  y  Luyando,  twelfth  volume  of  his  Comedias,  1619, 
"Discurso  sobre  las  Tragedias  Espano-  he  seemed  to  fancy  that  he  was  writing 
las,"  (Madrid,  1750,  12mo,  p.  47,)  and  more  carefully,  for  he  says,  he  wrote 
Huerta,  in  the  Preface  to  his  "Tcatro  them  not  for  the  multitude,  but  for  four- 
Hespauol,"  for  the  difficulty  of  finding  teen  or  fifteen  people  "que  tuvo  en  su 
even  these  six.  In  his  Dorotea  (Act  imaginacion."  It  would  be  difficult,  how- 
III.  sc.  4)  Lope  goes  out  of  his  way  to  ever,  to  tell  how  he  would  apply  this  re- 
ridicule  the  precepts  of  art,  as  he  calls  mark  to  "  El  ilanpiesde  Mantua,"  which 
them  ;  but  Figueroa  (Pla^a  Universal,  is  the  seventh  in  the  volume,  or  the 
1615,  f.  322,  b)  rebukes  hun  for  thus  "  Fuente  Ovtyuua,"  which  is  the  last. 


308  CIIxVRACTER  OF  LOTE  DE  YEGA'S  DRAMA.     IPeuiod  II. 

rapliY,  history,  and  a  decent  nioralit}',  can  be  properh* 
understood  onlj-  by  reading  a  large  number  of  his 
plays.  But  a  few  instances  will  partially  illustrate  it. 
In  his  '•  First  King  of  Castile,"  the  events  fill  tlihty-six 
years  in  the  middle  of  the  eleventh  centur}',  and  a 
Gypsy  is  introduced  four  hundred  ^-ears  before  Gypsies 
were  known  in  Europe.^  The  whole  romantic  stor^'  of 
the  Seven  Infantes  of  Lara  is  put  into  the  play  of 
"Mudarra."^  In  "Spotless  Purity,"  Job,  David,  Jere- 
miah, Saint  John  the  Baptist,  and  the  University  of 
Salamanca  figure  together ;  ^  and  in  "  The  Birth  of 
Christ "  we  have,  for  the  two  extremes,  the  creation 

of  the  world  and  the  Nativity.^  So  much  .for 
*  263  -  history.       Geography   is    treated    *  no    better, 

when  Constantinople  is  declared  to  be  four 
thousand  leagues  from  Madrid,^  and  Spaniards  are 
made  to  disembark  from  a  ship  in  Hungary.^  And  as 
to  morals,  it  is  not  easy  to  tell  how  Lope  reconciled 
his  opinions  to  his  practice.  In  the  Preface  to  the 
twentieth  volume  of  his  Theatre,  he  declares,  in  refer- 
ence to  his  own  "  Wise  Vengeance,"  that  its  title  is 
absurd,  because  all  revenge  is  unwise  and  imlawful ; 
and  yet  it  seems  as  if  one  half  of  his  plays  go  to  justify 
it.  It  is  made  a  merit  in  San  Isidro,  that  he  stole 
his  master's  grain  to  give   it  to  the   starving   birds.^*' 

*  "El  Primer  Rey  de  Castilla,"  Co-  takes  place  in  the  "Animal  dc  Ungria" 
madias,  Tom.  XVII.,  Madrid,  1621,  ff.  (Comedias,  Tom.  IX.,  Barcelona,  1618, 
114,  etc.  tr.    137,    138).      One    is   naturally   re- 

*  "El  Ba.stardo  Mud  arra,"  Comedias,  minded  of  Shakespeare's  "Winter's 
Tom.  XXIV.,  Zanigoza,  1641.  Tale"  ;  hut  it  is  curious  that  the  Duke 

*  "La  Limjiicza  no  Manchada,"  Co-  de  Luynes,  a  favorite  minister  of  .state 
medias,  Tom.  XIX.,  Madrid,  1623.  to  Louis  XIII.,  made  precisely  the  same 

""   "EI  Xaciniicnto  de  Christo,"  Co-  mistake,   at  ahout   the   .same  time,    to 

medias,  Tom.  XXIV.,  2(/.  si/pra.  Lord  Herbert  of  Chcrliury,  then  (1619- 

*  It  is  the  learned  Theodora,  a  person  1621)  ambas.sador  in  France.  But  Lope 
represented  as  capable  of  confounding  certainly  knew  l)etter,  and  I  doubt  not 
the  knowing  proR'-ssors  brought  to  try  Shakespeare  did,  however  ignorant  the 
her,  who  declares  Constantino[ile  to  be  French  statesman  may  have  been.  Her- 
four  thousand  leagues  from  Madrid.  La  bert's  Life,  by  him.self,  London,  1809, 
Donzella  Teo<lor,  end  of  Act  II.  8vo,  p.  217. 

^  Tliis  extraordinary'  disembarkation         i"  See  "San  Isidro  Labrador,"  in  Co- 


Chap.  XVIII.]    CHARACTER  OF  LOPE  DE  VEGA's  DRAMA.       309 

The  prayers  of  Nicolas  de  Tolentino  are  accoimted 
sufficient  for  the  salvation  of  a  kinsman  who,  after  a 
dissolute  life,  had  died  in  an  act  of  mortal  sin ;  ^^ 
and  the  cruel  and  ati"ocioiis  conquest  of  Arauco  is 
claimed  as  an  honor  to  a  noble  family  and  a  grace  to 
the  national  escutcheon. ^^ 

But  all  these  violations  of  the  truth  of  fact  and  of 
the  commonest  rules  of  Christian  morals,  of  which 
nobody  was  more  aware  than  their  perjoetrator,  were 
overlooked  by  Lope  himself,  and  by  his  audiences,  in 
the  general  interest  of  the  plot.  A  dramatized  novel 
was  the  form  he  chose  to  give  to  his  plays,  and  he 
succeeded  in  settling  it  as  the  main  principle  of  the 
Spanish  stage.  "  Tales,"  he  declares,  "  have  the  same 
rules  with  dramas,  the  purpose  of  whose  authors 
is  to  content  and  please  the  public,  *  though  *  264 
the  rules  of  art  may  be  strangled  by  it."  ^'^  And 
elsewhere,  when  defending  his  opinions,  he  says : 
"  Keep  the  explanation  of  the  story  doubtful  till  the 
last  scene ;  for,  as  soon  as  the  public  know  how  it  Avill 
end,  they  turn  their  faces  to  the  door,  and  their  backs 
to  the  stage."  ^*  This  had  never  been  said  before  ;  and 
though  some  traces  of  intriguing  plots  are  to  be  found 
from  the  time  of  Torres  de  Naharro,  yet  nobody  ever 
thought  of  relying  upon  them,  in  this  way,  for  success, 

medias  Escogidas,  Tom.  XXVIII.,  Ma-  are  heard,  not  only  witli  applause,  but 
drid,  1667,  f.  66.  with  admiration  ? "     D.  Quixote,  Parte 

11  "San  Nicolas  de  Tolentino,"  Co-      II.  c.  26. 

medias,  Toin.   XXIV.,  Zaragoza,  1641,  i^  "Tienen  las   novelas   los  mismos 

f.  171.  preceptos  que  las  comedias,  cuyo  fin  es 

12  "  Arauco  Domado,"  Comedias,  haber  dado  su  autor  contento  y  gusto 
Tom.  XX.,  Madrid,  1629.  After  read-  al  pueblo,  aunque  se  ahorque  el  arte." 
ing  such  absurdities,   we  wonder   less  Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  VIII.  p.  70. 

that  Cervantes,  even  though  he  com-  "  Arte  Nuevo,  Obras,  Tom.  IV.  p. 
mitted  not  a  few  like  them  himself,  412.  From  an  autograph  MS.  of  Lope, 
should  make  the  puppet-showman  ex-  still  extant,  it  a])pears  that  he  some- 
claim,  "  Are  not  a  thousand  plays  rc})-  times  wrote  out  his  plays  first  in  the 
resented  nowadays,  full  of  a  thousand  form  of  pequemis  iwvelas.  Semauario 
improprieties  and  absurdities,  which  Pintoresco,  1839,  p.  19. 
yet  run  their  course  successfully,  and 


310  THE    GEACIOSO.  [Periuj)  II. 

till  Lope  had  set  the  example,  which  his  school  have 
so  faithfully  followed. 

Another  element  which  he  established  in  the  Span- 
ish Drama  was  the  comic  underplot.  Nearly  all  his 
plaj^s,  "  The  Star  of  Seville  "  being  the  only  brilliant 
exception,  have  it ;  —  sometimes  in  a  pastoral  form, 
but  generally  as  a  simple  admixture  of  farce.  The 
characters  contained  in  this  portion  of  eacli  of  his 
dramas  are  as  much  standing  masks  as  those  in  the 
graver  portion,  and  were  perfectly  well  known  under 
the  name  of  the  f/raciosos  and  graciosas,  or  drolls,  to 
which  was  afterwards  added  the  vegete}'^'  or  a  little,  old, 
testy  esquire,  who  is  always  boasting  of  his  descent, 
and  is  often  employed  in  teasing  the  gracioso.  In  most 
cases  they  constitute  a  parody  on  the  dialogue  and 
adventures  of  the  hero  and  heroine,  as  Sancho  is  partly 
a  parody  of  Don  Quixote,  and  in  most  cases  they  are 
the  servants  of  the  respective  parties ;  —  the  men 
being  good-humored  cowards  and  gluttons,  the  women 
mischievous  and  coquettish,  and  both  full  of  Avit,  mal- 
ice, and  an  affected  simplicity.  Slight  traces  of  such 
characters  are  to  be  found  on  the  Spanish  stage  as  for 
back  as  the  servants  in  the  "  Serafina "  of  Torres 
Xaharro  ;  and  in  the  middle  of  that  century,  the  boho. 
or  fool,  figures  freely  in  the  farces  of  Lope  de  Rueda, 
as  the  wnpli  had  done  before  in  those  of  Enzina.  But 
the  variously  mtty  gracinso,  the  full-blown  ])arody  of 
the  heroic  characters  of  the  plaj^,  the  dramatic  picaro, 

is  the  work  of  Lope  de  Yega.     He  first  intro- 
*  265    duced  *  it    into  the    "  Francesilla,"  where    the 

oldest  of  the  tribe,  under  the  name  of  Tristan, 
was  represented  by  Rios,  a  famous  actor  of  his  time, 

^*i  Figueroa  (Pasagero,   1617,  f.   Ill)  calls  the   vegete  "natural  euemigo  del 
lacayo." 


CiiAV.  XVlll.]  THE    GKACIOSO.  311 

and  produced  a  great  effect ;  ^^  —  an  event  which. 
Lope  telLs  us,  in  the  Dedication  of  the  drama  itself,  in 
1620,  to  his  friend  Montalvan,  occurred  before  that 
friend  was  born,  and  therefore  before  the  year  1602. 
From  this  time  the  gracioso  is  found  in  nearly  all  of 
his  plays,  and  in  nearly  every  other  play  produced  on 
the  Spanish  stage,  from  which  it  passed,  first  to  the 
French,  and  then  to  all  the  other  theatres  of  modern 
times.  Excellent  specimens  of  it  may  be  noted  in  the 
sacristan  of  the  "  Captives  of  Algiers,"  in  the  servants 
of  the  "Saint  John's  Eve,"  and  in  the  servants  of  the 
"  Ugly  Beauty  "  ;  in  all  which,  as  well  as  in  many 
more,  the  gracmo  is  skilfully  turned  to  account,  by 
being  made  partly  to  ridicule  the  heroic  extravagances 
and  rhodomontade  of  the  leading  personages,  and 
partly  to  shield  the  author  himself  from  rebuke  by 
good-humoredly  confessing  for  him  that  he  was  quite 
aware  he  deserved  it.  Of  such  we  may  say,  as  Don 
Quixote  did,  when  speaking  of  the  whole  class  to 
the  Bachelor  Samson  Carrasco,  that  they  are  the 
shrewdest  fellows  in  their  respective  plays.  But  of 
others,  whose  ill-advised  wit  is  inopportunely  thrust, 

1^  See  the  Deilieation  of  the  "France-  hy  Lopez  Piiioiaiio,  who,  in  his     "  Filo- 

silla"  to  Juiin  Perez  de  Montalvan,  in  sofia  Antigua  Poetiea,"    (1596,  p.  402,) 

Comedias,  Tom.  XIII.,   Madrid,   1620,  says,    "They  are  characters  that  coni- 

where   we   have   the   following  words  :  monly  anmse  more  than  any  others  that 

"And  note  in  passing  that  this  is  the  appear  in  the  plays."     The  (jrncioso  of 

first  play  in  which  was  introduced  the  Lope  was,  like  the  rest  of  his  theatre;, 

character  of  the  jester,  which  has  been  founded   on   what    existed    before   his 

so  often  repeated  since.     Eios,  unique  time  ;    only    the    character    itself    was 

in  all  parts,   played  it,   and  is  worthy  further  developed,  and  received  a  new 

of  this  record.     I  pray  you  to  read  it  jiame.     D.   QuLxote,  Clemencin,   Parte 

as  a  new  thing  ;  for  when  I  wrote  it  11.  cap.  3,  note. 

you  were  not  born."     The  gracioso  was  But  he  was  eminently  in  th(^  national 

generally  distinguished  by  his  name  on  taste,  and  rose,  at  once,  in  Lope's  hands, 

the  Spanish  stage,  as  he  was  afterwards  to  be  an  important  personage.     When 

on  the  French  stage.     Thus,   Calderon  the  Persiles  and  Sigismnndo  was  writ- 

often  calls  his  gracwso  Clarin,  or  Trum-  ten,  this  personage  was  considered  alto- 

])et  ;  as  Moliere  called  his  Sganarelle.  gether  indispensable,  as  we  can  see  from 

The  simple,  who,  as  I  have  said,  can  be  the  humorous  tnoubles  occa.sioned  by  the 

traced  back  to  Enzina,   and  who  was,  absolute   necessity   of   introducing  one 

no  doubt,    the  same  with  the  hoho,  is  into  a  play  in  which  such  a  figure  could 

mentioned  as  very  successful,   in  1596,  find  no  proper  place.      Lib.  III.  c.  2. 


312  LOl'E    DE    YEGA's    VERSIFICATION.       [Peuiod  II. 

with  their  foolscaps  and  baubles,  into  the  gravest  and 
most  tragic  scenes  of  pla3^s  like  •"•  Marriage  in  Death," 
we  can  only  avow,  that,  though  they  were  demanded 
by  the  taste  of  the  age,  nothing  in  any  age  can  suffice 

for  their  justification. 
*  266         *  An  important    circumstance    which    should 

not  be  overlooked,  when  considering'  the  means 
oi  Lope's  great  success,  is  his  poetical  style,  the  metres 
he  adopted,  and  especially  the  use  he  made  of  the 
elder  poetry  of  his  country.  In  all  these  respects,  he 
is  to  be  praised ;  always  excepting  the  occasions  when, 
to  obtain  universal  applause,  he  permitted  himself  the 
use  of  that  obscure  and  affected  style  which  the  courtly 
part  of  his  audience  demanded,  and  which  he  himself 
elsewhere  condemned  and  ridiculed.^'^ 

No  doubt,  indeed,  much  of  his  power  over  the  mass 
of  the  people  of  his  time  is  to  be  sought  in  the  charm 
that  belonged  to  his  versification  ;  not  infrequently 
careless,  but  almost  always  fresh,  flowing,  and  effec- 
tive. Its  variety,  too,  was  remarkable.  No  metre  of 
which  the  language  was  susceptible  escaped  him.  The 
Italian  octave  stanzas  jire  frequent ;  the  term  lima, 
though  more  sparingly  used,  occurs  often ;  and  hardly 
a  play  is  without  one  or  more  sonnets.  All  this  was 
to  please  the  more  fiishionable  and  cultivated  among 
his  audience,  who  had  long  been  enamored  of  what- 
ever was  Italian ;  and  though  some  of  it  was  unhappy 

1®  The  specimens  of  liis  Itnd  taste  in  plmistical  follies  in  his  Obras  Sueltas, 

this  particular  occur  but  too  frequently  ;  Tom.  IV.  pp.  4.'>9-48'2;  and  the  jests 

e.  g.  in  "  El  Cuerdo  en  .su  Casa"  (Co-  at  their  expense  in  his  "Amista<l  y  Oh- 

uiedias,   Tom.   VI.,    Madrid,    1615,    IT.  lisacion,"  and  his  "  Melindres  de  Beli- 

10.",,   etc.);  in  the    "Nina  de    Plata"  sa "  (Comedi;i.s,  Tom.   IX.,   Barcelona, 

(Comedias,  Tom.  IX.,  Barcelona,  1618,  1618). 

If.  125,  etc.)  ;  in  tlie  "Caiitivos  de  Ar-  As  a  j^eneral  remark,  Lojte's  language 

gel"  (Comedia-s,  Tom.  XXV.,  Zaragoza,  is  natuml,  pure,  and  idiomatic.     Varga,s 

1647,    p.    241);    and    in    other   places.  y   Ponce   (Declamacion,    p.    23)    is    too 

But  in  opposition   to  all  this,  see  his  strong,  when  he  says  that  it  is  always 

deliberate   condemnation    of   such    eu-  so. 


CiiAi'.  XVI II. J  1118    USE    OF    BALLADS.  313 

enough,   like   sonnets  with  echoes/'    it  was  all   fluent 
and  all  successful. 

Still,  as  far  as  his  verse  was  concerned,  —  besides 
the  silvas,  or  masses  of  irregular  lines,  the  <jmntUlas^  or 
live-line  stanzas,  and  the  li/ris,  or  six-line,  —  he  relied, 
above  everything  else,  upon  the  old  national  ballad- 
measure  ; —  both  the  proper  romauce,  with  mo- 
nantes,  *and  the  redoiidiiia,  with  rhymes  between  *  267 
the  first  and  fourth  lines  and  between  the  sec- 
ond and  third.  In  this  he  was  nnquestionably  right. 
The  earliest  attempts  at  dramatic  representation  in 
Spain  had  been  somewhat  lyrical  in  their  tone,  and. 
the  more  artificial  forms  of  verse,  therefore,  especially 
those  with  short  lines  interposed  at  regnlar  intervals, 
had  been  used  by  Juan  de  la  Enzina,  by  Torres  Na- 
harro,  and  by  others  ;  though,  latterly,  in  these,  as  in 
many  respects,  much  confusion  had  been  introduced 
into  Spanish  dramatic  poetry.  But  Lope,  making  his 
drama  more  narrative  than  it  had  been  before,  settled 
it  at  once  and  finally  on  the  true  national  narrative 
measure.  He  went  further.  He  introduced  into  it 
much  old  ballad-poetry,  and  many  separate  ballads  of 
his  own  composition.  Thus,  in  ''  The  Sun  Delayed," 
the  Master  of  Santiago,  who  has  lost  his  way,  stops 
and  sings  a  ballad  ;  ^^  and  in  his  "  Poverty  no  Dis- 
grace," he  has  inserted  a  beautiful  one,  beginning, — 

"  Sonnets  seem  to  have  beena  sort  de  Plata,"  (Comedias,  Tom.  IX.,   Bar- 

of  choice  morsels  thrown  in  to  please  celona,  1618,  f.  124,)  is  witty,  and  has 

the  over-refined  portion  of  the  audience.  been  imitated  in  French  and  in  English. " 

In  general,  only  one  or  two  occur  in  a  Figueroa,  (Pasagero,    1617,   f.   HI),  in 

play;  but  in  the  "  Discreta  Venganza  "  ridicule  of  the  ])ractice,  .says  you  must 

(Comedias,   Tom.    XX.,   Madiid,   1629)  not  put  more  than  seven  sonnets  into  a 

there    are    five.      In  the    "  Palacios   de  play.      But  sonnets,  as  ornaments,  are 

Galiana"  (Comedias,  Tom.  XXIIL,  Ma-  known  in  the  drama  of  other  countries, 

drid,    1638,    f.    256)   there  is  a  foolisli  Sliakespeare    has    tliem,    e.   g.    in    the 

sonnet  with  echoes,  and  another  in  the  heartbrokeii    letter    of    Helen    to    her 

"  Historia  de  Tobias"  (Comedias,  Tom.  mother-in-law,  "All  's  Well  that  Ends 

XV.,  Madrid,  1621,  f.  244).     The  .son-  Well,"  Act  HI.  sc.  4. 
net  in  ridicule  of  sonnets,  in  the  "Nina  '**  "  El  Sol  I'arado,"  Comedias,  Tom. 


314  LOPE    DE    VEGAS    MATERIALS.  [PEi:iuD  IL 

0  noble  Spanish  cavalier, 

You  hasten  to  the  tight  ; 
The  trumpet  rings  upon  your  ear, 
And  victory  claims  her  right,  i'' 

Probably,  however,  he  produced  a  still  greater  effect 
when  he  brought  in  passages,  not  of  his  own,  but 
of  old  and  well-known  ballads,  or  allusions  to  them. 
Of  these  his  i)lays  are  full.  For  instance,  his  '*•  Sun 
Delayed,"  and  his  '^  Envy  of  Nobility,"  are  all  redolent 
of  the  Morisco  ballads  that  were  so  much  admired  in 
his  time  ;  the  first  taking  those  that  relate  to  the  loves 
of   Gazul   and    Zayda,^  and    the    last    those    from   the 

''  Civil  Wars  of  Granada,"  about  the  wild  feuds 
*208    of  the  Zeo-ris  and  the  *  Abencerrages.-^     Hai'dlv 

less  marked  is  the  use  he  makes  of  the  old  bal- 
lads on  Roderic,  in  his  "  Last  Goth "  ;  "^  of  those  con- 
cerning the  Infantes  of  Lara,  in  his  several  plays 
relating  to  their  tragical  story  ;  ^^  and  of  those  about 
Bernardo  del  Carpio,  in  "  Marriage  and  Death."  ^  Oc- 
casionally, the  effect  of  their  introduction  must  have 
been  very  great.  Thus,  when,  in  his  drama  of  '^  Santa 
Fe,"  crowded  with  the  achievements  of  Hernando  del 

XVII.,    Madrid,   1621,    pp.    218,    219.  "^'^  For  example,  the  ballad  in  the  Ro- 

It  reminds  one  of  the  mucli  more  beau-  mancero  of  1555,  l)eginning  "Despues 

tiful  serraiui  of  the  Maniuis  of  Santil-  (lue  el  Key  Rodrigo,"  at  the  end  of  Jor- 

lana,  beginning  "  Moza  tan  fomiosa,"  nada  II.,  in  "El  Ultimo  Godo,"  Come- 

anie.  Vol.  I.  p.  3.36  and  note.     But  it  dia.s,  Tom.  XXV.,  Zaragoza,  1647. 

is  too  free.  '^  Compare  "ElBa.stardo  Mudarra" 

19  "  Pobrezaiioes  Vileza,"  Comedias,  (Comedias,  Tom.  XXIV.,  Zaragoza, 
Tom.  XX.,  Madrid,  1629,  f.  61.  1641,  ff.  75,  76)  with  the  ballads  "Ruy 

20  He  has  even  ventured  to  take  the  '  Velasquez  de  Lara,"  and  "  Llegados  son 
beautiful  and  familiar  ballad,  "  Sale  la  los  Infantes";  and,  in  the  same  play, 
E.strella  de  Venus,"  —  which  is  in  the  the  dialogue  between  Mudan'a  and  his 
Romancero  General,  the  "Guerras  de  mother,  (f.  83,^  with  the  ballad,  "Sen- 
Granada,"   and  many   other    places, —  tados  a  un  ajedrez." 

and  work  it  up  into  a  dialogue.      "El  ^  "El  Casamiento  en    la  Muerte," 

Sol  Para.lo,"  t'oniedias,   Tom.    XVII.,  (Comedias,  Tom.   1.,  Valladolid,  1604, 

Madrid,  1621,  ft'.  223,  224.  flf.    198,   etc.,)   in  which   tiie   following 

^1  In   the   same  way  he  .seizes   upon  well-known  old  ballails  are  freely  used, 

th„    old    ballad,    "  Reduan    bien    .se   te  viz.  :  "  0  Belerma  !  O  Belemia  ! "    "No 

acuerda,"  and  u.ses  it  in  the  "  Eiiibidia  tiene  heredero  alguno";   "Al  ])ie  de  un 

dela  Nobleza,"Comedi;is,  Tiini.  XXIII.,  tuiiiulo  negro";  "Baiiando  esta  las  pri- 

Madrid,  1638,  f.  192.  -iones"  ;  and  others. 


Chai'.  XVIII.]  niS    POPULARITY.  315 

Piilgar,  Garcilasso  do  la  Vega,  and  whatever  was  most 
glorious  and  imposing  in  the  siege  of  Granada,  one  of 
his  personages  breaks  out  with  a  variation  of  the  famil- 
iar and  grand  old  ballad,  — 

Now  Santa  Fe  is  circled  round 

With  canvas  walls  so  fair, 
And  tents  that  cover  all  the  ground 

With  silks  and  velvets  rare,"'^^ — • 

it  must  have  stirred  his  audience  as  with  the  sound  of 
a  trumpet. 

Indeed,  in  all  respects,  Lope  well  understood  how 
to  Avin  the  general  favor,  and  how  to  build  up  and 
strengthen  his  fortunate  position  as  the  lead- 
ing dramatic  poet  of  *  his  time.  The  ancient  *  269 
foundations  of  the  theatre,  as  far  as  they  existed 
when  he  appeared,  were  little  disturbed  by  him.  He 
carried  on  the  drama,  he  says,  as  he  found  it ;  not  ven- 
turing to  observe  the  rules  of  art,  because,  if  he  had 
done  so,  the  public  never  would  have  listened  to 
him.-*'  The  elements  that  were  floating  about,  crude 
and  unsettled,  he  used  freely ;  but  only  so  far  as  they 
suited  his  general  purpose.  The  division  into  three 
acts,  known  so  little,  that  he  attributed  it  to  Virues, 
though  it  was  made  much  earlier ;  the  ballad-measure, 

25  It   is   in  the  last  chapter  of  the  and  the  capitulation  of  Granada.     The 
"Guerras   Civiles   de   Granada";    hut  imitation  of  this  ballad  by  Lope  is  in 
Lope  has  given  it, -with  a  slight  change  his  "Cerco   de    Santa  Fe,"  Comedias, 
in  the  phraseology,  as  follows  : —  Tom.  I.,  Valladolid,  1604,  f.   69.     For 
Cercada  esta  Sancta  F6  an  account  of  Santa  Fe,  which  was  vis- 
Con  mueho  lieiK^o  encerado ;  ited  by  Navagiero  in  1526,  see  his  Vi- 
Y  al  rededor  mucha-s  tiendas  ^ggio,    156-3,    f.    18.      It    is    now   mUch 
De  terciopelo  y  damasco.  -I^p    ',    ,     i        t,    ,      i     •.  tt 

dilapidated,  it  took  its  name,  Have- 
It  occurs  in  many  collections  of  ballads,  niann  says,  from  the  b(dief  that  it  was 
and  is  founded  on  the  fact,  that  a  sort  the  onlj'  city  in  Spain  where  no  Moslem 
of  village  of  rich  tents  was  established  jjrayer  had  ever  been  offered, 
near  Granada,  which,  after  an  acciden-  ^'^  He  says  this  apparently  as  a  kind 
tal  conflagration,  was  turned  into  a  of  apology  to  foreigners,  in  the  Preface 
town,  that  still  exists,  within  whose  to  the  "  Peregiino  en  .su  Patria,"  1603, 
walls  were  signed  both  the  commission  M'here  he  gives  a  list  of  his  plays  to 
of  Columbus  to  seek  the  New  World,  that  date. 


316  HIS    POPULARITY.  [Pkriod  II. 

which  had  been  timidly  used  by  Tarrega  and  two 
or  three  others,  but  relied  upon  by  nobod\'  ;  the  in- 
triguing storj'  and  the  amusing  underplot,  of  which  the 
slight  traces  that  existed  in  Torres  Naharro  had  been 
long  forgotten,  —  all  these  he  seized  with  the  instinct 
of  genius,  and  fonned  from  them,  and  from  the  abun- 
dant and  rich  inventions  of  his  own  overflowing::  fancv, 
a  drama  which,  as  a  Avhole,  was  unlike  anything  that 
had  preceded  it,  and  yet  was  so  truly  national,  and 
rested  so  faithfully  on  tradition,  that  it  was  never 
afterwards  disturbed,  till  the  whole  literature,  of  which 
it  was  so  brilliant  a  part,  was  swept  away  with  it. 

Lope  de  Yega's  immediate  success,  as  we  have  seen, 
was  in  proportion  to  his  great  powers  and  ftivorable 
opportunities.  For  a  long  time,  nobody  else  was  will- 
ingly heard  on  the  stage  ;  and  during  the  whole  of 
the  forty  or  fifty  years  that  he  wrote  for  it,  he  stood 
quite  unapproached  in  general  f)opularity.  His  un- 
numbered plays  and  farces,  in  all  the  forms  that  Avere 
demanded  by  the  fashions  of  the  age,  or  permitted  by 
religious  authority,  filled  the  theatres  both  of  the  cap- 
ital and  the  provinces ;  and  so  extraordinary  was  the 
impulse  he  gave  to  dramatic  representations,  that, 
though  there  were  onlj^  two  companies  of  strolling 
players  at  Madrid  when  he  began,  there  were,  about 
the  period  of  his  death,  no  less  than  forty,  compre- 
hending nearly  a  thousand  persons.^ 
*270  *  Abroad,  too,  his  fame  was  hardly  less  re- 
markable. In  Rome,  Naples,  and  Milan,  his 
dramas  were  performed  in  their  original  language; 
in  France  and  Italy,  his  name  was  announced  in  order 
to  fill  the  theatres  when  no  play  of  his  was  to  be  per- 

^  See  the  curious  facts  collected  on      Quixote,  ed.  1798,   Parte  II.,  Tom.   L 
tills  subject  in  Pellicer's  note  to  Don      \>it.  109-111. 


Chap.  XVIII.] 


niS    POPULARITY. 


formed  ;^^  and  once  even,  and  prob.ably  oftener,  one 
of  his  dramas  was  represented  in  the  seragho  at 
Constantinople.^  But  perhaps  neither  all  this  popu- 
larity, nor  yet  the  crowds  that  followed  hiiu  in  the 
streets  and  gathered  in  the  balconies  to  watch  him  as 
he  passed  along,'^'^  nor  the  name  of  Lope,  that  was 
given  to  whatever  was  esteemed  singularly  good  in 
its  kind,^^  is  so  striking  a  proof  of  his  dramatic  suc- 
cess as  the  fact,  so  often  complained  of  by  himself 
and  his  friends,  that  multitudes  of  his  plaj's  were 
fraudulently  noted  down  as  they  were  acted,  and 
then  printed  for  profit  throughout  Spain  ;  and  that 
multitudes  of  other  plays  appeared  under  his  name, 
and  were  represented  all  over  the  provinces,  that  he 
had  never  even  heard  of  till  they  were  published  or 
performed. ^^ 


^  This  is  stated  by  the  well-known 
Italian  poet,  Marini,  in  his  Eulogy  on 
Lope,  Obias  Sueltas,  Tom.  XXI.  ik  19. 
His  plays  were  often  })rinted  in  Italj'^ 
while  he  was  living  and  after  his  deatii. 
I  have  a  copy  of  a  neat  edition  of  his 
"  Vellocino  de  Oro,"  published  at  Milan 
in  1649. 

^9  Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  VIII.  pp. 
94-96,  and  Pellicer's  note  to  Don 
Quixote,  Parte  I.,  Tom.  III.  p.  93. 
One  of  his  plays  was  translated  into 
German  in  1652,  by  Grefflinger,  a  poor 
author  of  that  period  ;  but,  in  general, 
Spanish  literature  was  little  regarded 
in  Gei  many  in  the  seventeenth  century. 
The  Thirty  Years'  War  made  it  dis- 
tasteful. 

'^  This  is  said  in  a  discourse  preached 
over  his  mortal  remains  in  St.  Sebas- 
tian's, at  his  funeral.  Obras  Sueltas, 
Tom.  XIX.  p.  329. 

"*!  ' '  Frey  Lope  Felix  de  Vega,  whose 
name  has  become  universally  a  proverb 
for  whatever  is  good,"  says  Quevedo,  in 
his  Aprobacion  to  ' '  Tome  de  Burguillos. " 
(Obras  Sueltas  de  Lope,  Tom.  XIX.  p. 
xix.)  "It  became  a  common  proverb 
to  praise  a  good  thing  by  calling  it  a 
Lope;  so  that  jewels,  diamonds,  pic- 
tures, etc.,  were  raised  into  esteem  by 
calling    them    his,"    says    Montalvan. 


(Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  XX.  p.  53.)  Cer- 
vantes intimates  the  same  thing  in  his 
cntreiiies,  "La  Guarda  Cuidadosa." 

^-  His  complaints  on  the  subject  be- 
gin as  early  as  1603,  before  he  had  pub- 
lished any  of  his  plays  himself,  (Obras 
Sueltas,  Tom.  V.  p.  xvii, )  and  are  re- 
newed in  the  "  Egloga  a  Claudio," 
(n>id.,  Tom.  IX.  p.  369,)  printed  after 
his  death  ;  besides  which  they  occur  in 
the  Prefaces  to  his  Comedias,  (Tom. 
IX.,  XL,  XIIL,  XV.,  XXL,  and  else- 
where,) as  a  matter  that  seems  to  have 
been  always  troubling  him.  I  have 
one  of  these  spurious  publications.  It 
is  entitled  "  Las  Comedias  del  Famoso 
Poeta,  Lope  de  Vega  Carpio,  recopiladas 
por  Bernardo  Grassa,  ec,  Ano  1626, 
QaragO(;a,  4to,  ff.  289.  Eleven  Loas 
open  this  curious  volume,  nearly  all  of 
them  ending  with  an  earnest  re(]uest 
for  silence  ;  and  it  contains  twelve 
plays,  being,  in  fact,  an  im])erfeot  and 
irregular  reprint  of  the  lirst  volume  of 
the  "Comedias." 

An  amusing  story  is  told  by  P'igu- 
er^a  (Pla9a  Universal,  1615,  f.  237,  a) 
of  the  way  in  which  plays  were  some- 
times stolen.  He  says  that  tliere  was 
a  gentleman  by  the  name  of  Luis  Kami- 
rez  de  Arellano,  (the  same  j)erson,  I 
suppose,    who   was    one   of   the   secre- 


318 


HIS    INCOME    AND    roVEKTY 


[Pekiod  II. 


A  large  income  naturally  followed  such  popularitj;. 

for  his  plays  were  liberally  paid  for  by  the  ac- 
*271     tors;^  and  he  *  had  patrons  of  a  munificence 

unknown  in  our  days,  and  always  undesira))le.** 
But  he  was  thriftless  and  wasteful,  exceedingly  char- 
itable, and,  in  hospitality  to  his  friends,  prodigal.  He 
was,  therefore,  almost  always  embarrassed.  At  the 
end  of  his  "Jerusalem,"  printed  as  early  as  1609,  he 
complains  of  the  pressure  of  his  domestic  aftairs;*^  and 
in  his  old  age  he  addressed  some  verses,  in  the  nature 
of  a  petition,  to  the  still  more  thriftless  Philip  the 
Fourth,  asking  the  means  of  living  for  himself  and 
his  daughter.'^*^  After  his  death,  his  poverty  was  fully 
admitted  l)y  his  executor ;  and  yet,  considering  the 
relative  value  of  mone}',  no  poet,  jDcrhaps,  ever  re- 
ceived so  large  a  compensation  for  his  works. 


taries  to  the  Count  de  Lemos,)  who 
could  carry  off  a  whole  play  after  hear- 
ing it  three  times,  and  actually  did  it 
in  the  cases  of  the  "Dama  Boba"  and 
the  "Principe  Perfeto,"  well-known 
dramas  of  Lope  de  Vega.  This,  of 
course,  was  very  annoying.  On  one 
occasion,  therefore,  when  the  "  Galan 
de  la  ilenibrilla  " — which  is  in  the 
tenth  volume  of  Lope's  plays,  with  a 
sharp,  satirical  j)reface  —  was  repre- 
senting, Sanchez,  a  well-known  autor 
and  actor  of  the  time,  so  mutilated  his 
part  that  the  offended  audience  cried 
out  upon  him  to  know  the  reason 
of  his  conduct,  to  which  he  replied 
that  there  was  a  person  present,  point- 
ing him  out,  who  would  cany  off  the 
whole  play  in  his  memory,  if  it  were 
not  altered.  The  con.sequence  was  that, 
after  some  uproar,  Luis  de  Arellano  was 
compelled  to  leave  the  theatre.  Figu- 
eroa  says  that  he  was  present  and  wit- 
nessed this  strange  scene.  Lope  de 
Vega,  alluding  to  this  mode  of  stealing 
plays,  says  there  were  two  persons  espe- 
eially  skilful  in  it,  one  of  whom  was 
called  by  the  j)0pulace  (el  vulgo)  "  Me- 
morilla,"  and  the  other  "Oran  Meino- 
ria."  "A  esto  se  ahade  el  hurtar  las 
comedias  estos  i|ue  llanian  el  vulgo  al 
ano  Memorilld  y  al  otro  (rmn  Memorui 
\os  qaales  con  olgur/os  ^-crsos  que  apren- 


den  niezclau  inlinitos  suyos  barbaros, 
con  que  ganan  la  vida,  vendiendolas," 
ec.  Coniedias,  Parte  XIII. ,  Madrid, 
1620,   Prologo. 

^  Montalvan  sets  the  price  of  each 
play  at  five  hundred  reals,  and  sa3-s 
that  in  this  way  Lope  received,  during 
his  life,  eighty  thousand  ducats.  Obras, 
Tom.  XX.  p.  47. 

^  The  Duke  of  Sessa  alone,  besides 
many  other  benefactions,  gave  Lope, 
at  different  times,  twenty -four  thousand 
ducats,  and  a  .sinecure  of  three  hundred 
more  per  annum,      i^t  supra. 

^  Libro  XX.,  last  three  .stanzas. 
Again  in  1620,  dedicating  his  "  Ver- 
dadero  Amante  "  to  his  son  Lope,  who 
showed  poetical  asjiirations,  he  alleges 
his  own  examjde  to  warn  his  child 
never  to  indulge  his  taste  for  verse, 
adding,  ' '  I  have,  as  you  know,  a  poor 
house,  and  my  bed  and  board  are  no 
better." 

^  "I  have  a  daughter,  and  am  old," 
he  says.  "The  Muses  give  me  honor, 
but  not  income,"  etc.  (Obra.s,  Tom. 
XVII.  p.  401.)  From  his  will  it  ap- 
pears that  Philip  IV.  jiromised  an  office 
to  the  person  who  .should  marry  this 
daughter,  and  failed  to  keej)  lii.s  word. 
See  note  at  the  end  of  Chap.  XIV., 
ante,  where  in  Lope's  will  is  a  notice  of 
this  claim  on  the  king. 


Chap.  XVllL]  SPIRIT    OF    IMrilOVlSATlOX.  319 

It  sliould,  however,  be  remembered,  that  no  other 
poet  ever  wrote  so  much  witli  popular  effect.  For,  if 
we  begin  wdth  his  dramatic  compositions,  whicli  are 
the  best  of  his  efforts,  and  go  down  to  his  epics,  which, 
on  the  whole,  are  the  worst,^'  we  shall  find  the  {imount 
of  what  was  received  with  favor,  as  it  came  from  the 
press,  quite  unparalleled.  And  when  to  this  we  are 
compelled  to  add  his  own  assurance,  just  before  his 
death,  that  the  greater  part  of  his  Avorks  still  remained 
in  manuscript,^^  we  pause  in  astonishment,  and, 
*  before  we  are  able  to  believe  the  account,  de-  *  272 
mand  some  explanation  that  shall  make  it  cred- 
ible ;  —  an  explanation  wdiich  is  the  more  important, 
because  it  is  the  key  to  much  of  his  personal  character, 
as  well  as  of  his  poetical  success.  And  it  is  this.  No 
poet  of  any  considerable  reputation  ever  had  a  genius 
so  nearly  related  to  that  of  an  improvisator,  or  ever  in- 
dulged his  genius  so  freely  in  the  spirit  of  improvisation. 
This  talent  has  always  existed  in  the  southern  coun- 
tries of  Europe  ;  and  in  Spain  has,  from  the  first,  pro- 
duced, in  different  ways,  the  most  extraordinary  results. 
We  owe  to  it  the  invention  and  perfection  of  the  old 
ballads,  which  were  originally  improvisated  and  then 
preserved  by  tradition ;  and  we  owe  to  it  the  seguidiUas, 
the  boleros,  and  all  the  other  forms  of  popular  poetry 

^^  Like  some  other  distinguished  au-  where  he  says,  "The  printed  part  of 
thors,  however,  he  was  inclined  to  un-  my  writings,  though  too  much,  is  small, 
dervalue  what  he  did  most  happily,  compared  with  what  remains  unpub- 
and  to  prefer  what  is  least  worthy  of  lished."  (Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  IX.  p. 
preference.  Thus,  in  the  Preface  to  his  369.)  Indeed,  we  know  we  have;  hardly 
'Comedias,  (Vol.  XV.,  Madrid,  1621,)  a  fourth  part  of  his  full-length  plays; 
he  shows  that  he  preferred  his  longer  only  about  thirty  uutos  out  of  four 
poems  to  his  plays,  which  he  says  he  hundred  ;  only  twenty  or  thirty  cntrc- 
holds  but  "as  the  wild-flowers  of  his  7/ic,se.s  out  of  the  "infinite  number"  as- 
field,  that  grow  up  without  care  or  cribed  to  him.  Pacheco,  in  liis  notice 
culture."  of  Lope,  printed  in  1609,  .says  that  his 

**  This  might  be  inferred  from  the  works  would  give  an  average  of  three 

•account  in  Montalvan's  "  Fama  Postu-  sheets    [tres  pliegos]   for  every  day  of 

ma"  ;    but    Lope    himself    declares   it  his  life  to  that  time.      Obras  Sueltas, 

distinctly  in  the  "  Egloga  a  Claudio,"  Tom.  XIV.  p.  xxxi. 


320  SriRlT   OF    iMrKUVl.^ATlON.  [Period  IL 

that  still  exist  in  Spain,  and  are  daily  poured  forth  by 
the  fervent  imaginations  of  the  uncultivated  classes  of 
the  people,  and  sung  to  the  national  music,  that  some- 
times seems  to  fill  the  air  by  night  as  the  light  of  the 
sun  does  by  day. 

In  the  time  of  Lope  de  Vega,  the  passion  for  such 
improvisation  had  risen  higher  than  it  ever  rose  before, 
if  it  had  not  spread  out  more  widely.  Actors  were  ex- 
pected sometimes  to  improvisate  on  themes  given  to 
them  b}'  the  audience.'^  Extemporaneous  dramas,  with 
all  the  varieties  of  verse  demanded  b}^  a  taste  fonned 
in  the  theatres,  were  not  of  rare  occurrence.  PJiilip 
the  Fourth.  L()])e"s  patron,  had  such  })erformed  in  his 
presence,  and  bore  a  part  in  them  himself.*^  And  the 
famous  Count  de  Lemos,  the  viceroy  of  Xa])les,  to 
whom  Cervantes  was  indeljted  for  so  umcli  kindness, 
kept,  as  an  apanage  to  his  viceroyalty,  a  poetical  court, 
of  which  the  two  Argensolas  were  the  chief  ornaments, 
and   in  which   extemporaneous  plays  were  acted  with 

brilliant  success.*^ 
*  273  *  Lope  de  Vega's  talent  was  undoubtedly  of 
near  kindred  to  this  genius  of  improvisation, 
and  produced  its  extraordinary  results  by  a  similar 
process,  and  in  the  same  spirit.  He  dictated  verse,  we 
are  told,  with  ease,  more  rapidly  than  an  amanuensis 
could  take  it  down;*^  and  wrote  out  an  entire  play  in 
two  days,  which  could  wiili  (lilliciilly  be  transcribed  by 
a  copyist  in  the   same  time.     He  was  not  absolutely 

^  BLsbe  y  Viilal,  "  Tratado  de  Come-  narrative  by  Diego,   Duke  of  Estrada, 

dia«,"    (1618,    f.    102,)    speaks   of  the  giving  an  account  of  one  of  these  en- 

"  glosses  which    tlie   actors   make  ex-  t^^rtainnients,   (a  burles<jue  play  on  the 

tempore  upon  lines  given  to  them  on  story  of  Orpheus  and  Eurydice,)  per- 

the  stage."        ,  formed  l)efare  the  viceroy  and  hi«  court. 

*^'  Viardot,  Etudes  sur  la  Litterature  The  Count  de   Lemos,    a  very  accom- 

en  Esy»agne,  Paris,  18.3.*},  8vo,  ]».  3.39.  plished  statesman,   died   in    1622,    and 

^'  Pellicer,  Bibliot^-ea  de  Traduetores  there  Ls  an  agreeable  life  of  him  in  Bar- 

Esjiaholes,  (Madrid,  1778,  4to,  Tom.  I.  rera,  ad  verb. 
Jip.  89  -  91,)  in  which  there  is  a  curious         *'^  Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  XX.  pp.  51,  5Z 


Cn.u'.  XVIII.]  SPIRIT    OF    IMPROVISATION.  321 

an  improvisator,  for  his  education  and  position  natu- 
rally led  liini  to  devote  himself  to  written  composition, 
l)ut  he  was  continually  on  the  borders  of  whatever 
belongs  to  an  improvisator's  peculiar  pn)vince  ;  he  was 
oontniualh'  showing,  in  his  merits  and  defects,  in  his 
ease,  grace,  and  sudden  resource,  in  his  wildness  and 
extravagance,  in  the  happiness  of  his  versification  and 
the  prodigal  al)un(lnnce  of  his  imagery,  that  a  very 
little  more  freedom,  a  verv  little  more  indulgence 
given  to  his  feelings  and  his  fanc}',  would  have  made 
him  at  once  and  entirely,  not  only  an  improvisator,  but 
the  most  remarkable  one  that  ever  lived. 


21 


*274 


CHAPTEE    XIX, 


QrETEDO. HIS     LIFE,    PUBLIC     SERVICE,    AXD     PERSECUTIONS. HIS     WOKK8» 

PUBLISHED     AXD     UXPUBLISHED. HIS     POETRY. THE     BACHILLER     FRAX- 

CISCO    DE     LA    TORRE. HIS     PROSE    WORKS,    RELIGIOUS    AXD    DIDACTIC. 

HIS    PAUL    THE    SHARPER,  PROSE    SATIRES,  AXD    VISIOXS. HIS    CHARACTER. 

Fraxcisco  Gomez  de  Queyedo  y  Villegas.  the 
contemporarY  of  both  Lope  de  Vega  and  CerYantes, 
was  born  at  Madrid,  in  1580.^  His  family  came  from 
that  mountainous  region  at  the  northwe.^t.  to  which, 
like  other  Spaniards,  he  was  well  pleased  to  trace  his 
origin  ;  -  but  his  father  held  an  office  of  some  dig- 
nity at  the  com't  of  Philip  the  Second,  which  led  to 


1  A  diffuse  life  of  Queyedo  was  pub- 
lished at  Madrid,  in  166-3,  bj-  Dou  Pa- 
blo Antonio  de  Tarsia,  a  Neapolitan, 
and  is  inserted  in  the  tenth  volume  of 
the  edition  of  ,Quevedo's  Works,  by 
Sancha,  Madrid,  1791-1794,  11  torn., 
Svo.  A  shorter,  and,  on  the  whole,  a 
more  .satisfactory,  life  of  him  is  to  be 
found  in  Baena,  Hijos  de  Madrid,  Tom. 
II.  j.p.  1.37-154;  but  the  be.st  is  the 
one  prefixed  to  the  collection  of  Queve- 
do's  Works,  the  first  and  second  vol- 
umes of  which  are  in  the  Biblioteca  de 
Autores  Esfianoles,  (Tom.  XXIII.,  1852, 
and  Tom.  XLYIII.,  1859,)  and  edited 
with  exti-aordinarj'  knowledge  of  what- 
ever relates  to  its  .subject,  by  Don  Au- 
reliano  Fernandez  Guerra  y  Orbe.  It 
is  only  to  be  regretted  that  this  work 
has  not  yet  (1859)  been  continued,  but 
I  trust  it  will  be.  No  Sjianish  author 
will  lietter  reward  care  and  diligence  in 
explanatory  notes  than  Quevedo,  and 
none  needs  them  more.  I  must  Ije  j>er- 
mitted  to  add,  that  I  do  not  accept  all 
Don  Aureliano's  conclusions,  such,  for 
instance,  as  that  Quevedo  in  all  he 
wrote,  even  in  his  Suehos,  had  n})oJ)iicnl 
purpose  in  view.    See  pj>.  x,  xv,  and  xxi. 


-  In  his  "Grandes  Anales  de  Quince 
Dias,"  speaking  of  the  j»owerful  Presi- 
dent Acevedo,  he  says  :  "I  was  unwel- 
come to  him,  because,  coming  myself 
from  the  mountains,  I  never  flattered 
the  ambition  he  had  to  make  himself 
out  to  be  above  men  to  whom  we,  in 
our  own  home^,  acknowledge  no  supe- 
riors."    Obras,  Tom.  XI.  p.  63. 

An  anecdote  will  show  how  much 
was  thought  of  this  mountain  spirit  of 
honor,  which  was  su]ipo.s(-d  to  descend 
from  the  days  of  Pelayo,  when  the 
mountain  country  alone  kept  its  loyaltj- 
and  faith.  After  Philip  lY.  had  en- 
tered Pamplona,  23d  April,  1646,  he 
called  to  him  the  Manjuis  of  Carpio, 
who  bore  the  sword  of  state,  and 
sheathed  it  with  his  own  royal  hands, 
because,  as  he  declared,  in  that  king- 
dom it  was  not  needed:  "thus,"  says 
the  contemjKjrari'  account,  "  giving 
those  altout  liirn  to  understand  that 
all  the  men  of  Navarre  were  faithful 
and  loyal."  Ilelacion  embiada  de  Pam- 
plona de  la  Entrada  <jue  hizo  su  Ma- 
gestad  en  aquella  Ciudad.  Sevilla,  1646, 
4to,  pp.  4. 


Chai'.  XIX.]  FRANCISCO    DE    QUEVEDO.  323 

his  residence  *  in  the  capital  at  the  period  of  *  275 
liis  son'.s  birth  ;  —  a  circumstance  which  was  no 
doubt  favorable  to  the  development  of  the  young 
man's  talents.  But  whatever  were  his  opportunities, 
we  know  that,  when  he  was  fifteen  years  old,  he  was 
graduated  in  theology  at  the  University  of  Alcala, 
where  he  not  only  made  himself  master  of  such  of  the 
ancient  and  modern  languages  as  woidd  Ije  most  useful 
to  him,  but  extended  his  studies  into  the  civil  and 
canon  law,  mathematics,  medicine,  politics,  and  other 
still  more  various  branches  of  knowledge,  showing  that 
he  was  thus  early  possessed  with  the  ambition  of  be- 
coming a  universal  scholar.  His  accumulations,  in  fact, 
were  vast,  as  the  learning  scattered  through  his  works 
plainly  proves,  and  bear  witness,  not  less  to  his  ex- 
treme industry  than  to  his  extraordinary  natural  en- 
dowments. 

On  his  return  to  Madrid,  he  seems  to  have  been 
associated  both  with  the  distinguished  scholars  and 
with  the  fashionable  cavaliers  of  the  time ;  and  an 
adventure,  in  which,  as  a  man  of  honor,  he  found  him- 
self accidentally  involved,  had  w^ellnigh  proved  fatal 
to  his  better  aspirations.  A  woman  of  respectable 
appearance,  while  at  her  devotions  in  one  of  the 
parish  churches  of  Madrid,  during  Holy  Week,  was 
grossly  insulted  in  his  presence.  He  defended  her, 
though  both  jDarties  w^ere  quite  unknown  to  him.  A 
duel  followed  on  the  spot ;  and,  at  its  conclusion,  it 
was  found  he  had  killed  a  person  of  rank.*  He  fled, 
of  course,  and,  taking  refuge  in  Sicily,  was  invited  to 
the  splendid  court  then  held  there  by  the  Duke  of 
Ossuna,  viceroy  of  Philip  the  Third,  and  was  soon 
afterwards  employed  in  important  affairs  of  state, 
. —  sometimes,  as  we  are  told  by  his  nephew,  in  such 


324  FIIAXCI.SCO    DE    QUEVEDO.  [Peiuod  II. 

as  required  personal  courage  and  involved  danger  to 

his  life.'^ 
*  276  *At  the  conclusion  of  the  Duke  of  Ossuna's 
administration  of  Sicily,  Quevedo  was  sent,  in 
1615,  to  Madrid,  as  a  sort  of  plenipotentiary  to  confirm 
to  the  crown  all  past  grants  of  revenue  from  the  island, 
and  to  offer  still  further  subsidies.  So  welcome  a  mes- 
senger was  not  ungraciously  received.  His  former 
offence  was  overlooked  ;  a  pension  of  four  hundred 
ducats  was  given  him ;  and  he  returned,  in  great 
honor,  to  the  Duke,  his  patron,  who  was  already  trans- 
ferred to  the  more  important  and  agreeable  viceroyalty 
of  Naples. 

Quevedo  now  became  minister  of  finance  at  Naples, 
and  fulfilled  the  duties  of  his  place  so  skilfully  and 
honestly,  that,  without  increasing  the  burdens  of  the 
people,  he  added  to  the  revenues  of  the  state.  An 
important  negotiation  with  Rome  was  also  intrusted 
to  his  management;  and  in  1617  he  was  again  in 
Madrid,  and  stood  l^efore  the  king  with  such  favor, 
that  he  was  made  a  knight  of  the  Order  of  Santiago. 
On  his  return  to  Naples,  or  at  least  during  the  nine 
years  he  was  absent  from  Spain,  he  made  treaties  with 
Venice  and  Savoy,  as  well  as  with  the  Pope,  and  was 
almost  constantly  occupied  in  difficult  and  delicate 
affairs  connected  with  the  administration  of  the  Duke 
of  Ossuna. 

But  in  1620  all  tliis  was  changed.     The  Duke  fell 

'  I  think  his  life  was  in  greater  dan-  niantic  that  its  reality  has  sometimes 

ger   somewhat    later,  —  at   Venice    in  been   doubted.       He  -svas    subsequent- 

161S,  —  wlien,    by  means  of  his   per-  ly   burnt  in  effigy,    after   the   fashion 

feet  Venetian   accent,    he   escaped,    in  of   the    Impisition,    by   order   of   the 

the  disguise  of  a  beggar,  from  the  offi-  Venetian    Senate,    but   he  was   not,   I 

cers  of  justice,  who  pursued  liiin  as  one  think,  guilty  of  the  particular  offence 

involved  in  the  conspiracy  which  St.  they   imputed   to  him  ;    a   matter,  no 

Real,  Lafosse,  and  Otway  have  rendered  doubt,   of  small  consequence  in  their 

classit^l,  but  wliieh  is  so  wild  and  ro-  eyes. 


Chap.  XIX. J  FRANCISCO    DE    QUEVEDO.  325 

from  power,  and  those  who  had  been  his  ministers 
shared  his  fate.  Quevedo  was  exiled  to  his  patrimonial 
estate  of  Torre  de  Juan  Abad,  where  and  elsewhere  he 
endured  an  imprisonment  or  detention  of  two  years 
and  a  half;  and  then  was  released  without  trial  and 
without  having  had  any  definite  offence  laid  to  his 
charge.  He  was,  however,  cured  of  all  desire  for  pub- 
lic honors  or  royal  favor.  He  refused  the  place  of 
Secretary  of  State,  and  that  of  Ambassador  to  Genoa, 
both  of  which  were  offered  him,  accepting  the  merely 
titular  rank  of  Secretary  to  the  King.  He,  in  fact,  was 
now  determined  to  give  himself  to  letters ;  and  did  so 
for  the  rest  of  his  life.  But  though  he  never  took 
office,  lie  occasionally  mingled  in  the  political  dis- 
cussions of  his  time,  as  may  be  seen  in  his  "  Tira  la 
Piedra,"  which  is  on  the  debasement  of  the  coin 
(already  sternly  rebuked  by  *  Mariana) ;  in  his  *  277 
"Memorial  de  St.  lago,"  which  cost  him  an  exile 
of  several  months  in  1628 ;  and  in  his  letter  to  Louis 
the  Thirteenth  on  the  war  of  163-5.  Others  of  his  minor 
works  show  that  such  interests  always  tempted  him. 

In  1634  he  was  married ;  but  his  wife  soon  died, 
and  left  him  to  contend  alone  with  the  troubles  of 
life  that  still  pursued  him.  In  1639  some  satirical 
verses  were  placed  under  the  king's  napkin  at  dinner- 
time ;  and,  without  proper  inquiry,  they  were  attrib- 
uted to  Quevedo.  In  consequence  of  this  he  w^as 
seized,  late  at  night,  with  great  suddenness  and  se- 
crecy, in  the  palace  of  the  Duke  of  Medina-Coeli,  and 
thrown  into  rigorous  confinement  in  the  royal  con- 
vent of  San  Marcos  de  Leon.  There,  in  a  damp  and 
unwholesome  cell,  his  health  was  soon  Ijroken  down 
by  diseases  from  which  he  never  recovered ;  and  the 
little  that  remained  to  him  of  his  property  was  wasted 


326  FIIAXCISCO    DE    QUEVEDO.  [Pei;iod  II. 

away  till  he  was  obliged  to  depend  on  charity  for  sup- 
port. "With  all  these  cruelties  the  unprincipled  favor- 
ite of  the  time,  the  Count  Duke  Olivares,  seems  to 
have  been  connected  ;  and  the  anger  they  naturally 
excited  in  the  mind  of  Quevedo  may  well  account  for 
two  papers  against  that  minister  which  have  generally 
been  attributed  to  him,  and  which  are  full  of  personal 
severity  and  1)itterness.^  A  heart-rendino;  letter,  too, 
which,  when  he  had  been  nearly  two  jears  in  prison, 
he  wrote  to  Olivares,  should  be  taken  into  the  account, 
in  which  he  in  vain  appeals  to  his  persecutor  s  sense  of 
justice,  telling  him,  in  his  despair,  '•  No  clemency  can 
add  many  years  to  my  life ;  no  rigor  can  take  many 
away.'V^  At  last,  the  horn-  of  the  favorite's  disgrace 
arrived  ;  and,  amidst  the  jubilee  of  Madrid,  he  was 
driven  into  exile.  The  release  of  Quevedo  fol- 
*2T8  lowed  as  a  matter*  of  course,  since  it  was  al- 
ready admitted  .that  another  had  written  the 
verses^  for  which  he  had  been  punished  by  nearly 
four  years  of  the  most  imjust  suffering.' 

*  The  first  is  the  very  curious  paper  "I  was  seized  in  a  manner  so  rigor- 
entitled  "Caidadesu  PrivanzajMuerte  oils  at  eleven  oclock  on  the  night  of 
del  Conde  Duque  de  Olivares,"  in  the  the  7th  of  December,  and  hunied  away, 
Seminario  Erudito  (Madrid,  17S7,  4to,  in  my  old  age,  so  unpro\ided,  that  the 
Tom.  III.^ ;  and  the  other  is  "  Memorial  officer  who  made  the  arrest  gave  me  a 
de  Don  F.  Quevedo  contra  el  Conde  baize  cloak  and  tvvo  shirts,  by  way  of 
Dui|ue  de  Olivares,"  in  the  same  col-  alms,  and  one  of  the  alguazils  gave  me 
lection,  Tom.  XV.  some  woollen  stockings.     I  was  impris- 

°  This  letter,  often  reprinted,   is  in  oned  four  yeai-s,  —  two  of  them  as  if  I 

Mayans   y   Siscar,    "  Cartas   Morales,"  were  a  wilii  beast,  shut  up  alone,  with- 

etc,  Valencia,  1773,  12mo,  Tom.  I.  p.  out   human    iutercour.se,   and  where   I 

1.51 .     Another  letter  to  his  friend  Adan  should  have  died  of  hunger  and  dcstitu- 

de  la  Pan-a,  giving  an  account  of  his  tion  if  the  charity  of  my  Lord  the  Duke 

mode  of  life  during  his  confinement,  of  Medina-Cceli  had  not  been  in  place 

shows  that  he  wa.s  extremely  industri-  of  a  sure  and  full  patrimony  to  me  down 

ous.      Indeed,    industiy  was   his   main  to   the   present   day.     From  this  cruel 

resource  a  large  i)art  of  the  time  he  was  chain  of  linked  calamities,  the  justice 

in    San    ilarcos   de    Ix-on.      Seminario  and  mercy  of  his  Majesty  released  me 

Erudito,  Tom.  I.  p.  65.  by  means  of  a  petition  given  to  him  bj^ 

®  Sedano,  Pama.so  Espahol,  Tom.  IV.  your   Excellency,   to  whom  I   refened 

p.  xxxi.  my  cause,  in  the  whole  course  of  which 

''  In  his  Dedication  of  his  Life  of  St.  no  complaint  was   ever  made   against 

Paul  to   the   President   of  Castile,   we  me,    nor  any  confession  a.sked  of  me, 

liave  this  extraordinarj'  account  of  his  neither  after  my  release  was  any  judicial 

arrest  and  imxmsonment : —  paper  found  in  relation  to  it."     Obras, 


Chap.  XIX.]         •      FKANCISCO    DE    QUEVEDO.  327 

But  justice  came  too  late.  Quevedo  remained,  in- 
deed, a  little  time  at  Madrid,  among  his  friends,  en- 
deavoring to  recover  some  of  his  lost  property  ;  but 
failing  in  this,  and  unable  to  subsist  in  the  capital^ 
he  retired  to  the  mountains  from  which  his  race  had 
descended.  His  infirmities,  however,  accompanied  him 
wherever  he  went;  his  spirits  sunk  imder  his  trials  and 
sorrows;  and  he  died,  wearied  out  with  life,  in  104-3.'^ 

Quevedo  sought  success,  as  a  man  of  letters,  in  a 
great  number  of  departments,  —  from  theology  and 
metaphysics  down  to  stories  of  vulgar  life  and  Gypsy 
ballads.  But  many  of  his  manuscripts  were  t;U^en 
from  him  when  his  papers  were  twice  seized  by  tlie 
government,  and  many  others  seem  to  have  been 
accidentally  lost  in  the  course  of  a  life  full  of  change 
and  adventure.  From  these  and  other  causes,  his 
friend  Antonio  de  Tarsia  tells  us  that  the  greater  part 
of  his  works  could  not  be  published  ;  and  we  know 
that  many  are  still  to  be  found  in  his  own  handwriting 
both  in  the  National  Library  of  Madrid,  and  in 
other  collections,  public  and  private.^  *  Those  *  279 
already  printed  fill  eleven  considerable  volumes, 
eight  of  prose  and  three  of  poetry  ;  leaving  us  prob- 
ably little  to  regret  concerning  the  fate  of  the  rest, 
unless,  perhaps,  it  be  the  loss  of  his  dramas,  of  which 
two  are  said  to  have  been  represented  with  applause 
at  Madrid,  during  his  life  time. ^*^ 

Tom.  VI.  p.  8.     His  confinement  ex-  dano's  Parna.so  Espanol,   is  liy  Velaz- 

tended  from  December  7,  16-39,  to  early  quez,  and  is  strongly  inarkcd  with  th(^ 

in  .lune,  1(343.  character  we  attribute  to  tlie  autlior  of 

"  His  nephew,   in  a  Preface  to  the  the  Visions.     Stirling's  Artists  of  Spain, 

second  volume   of   his    uncle's   Poems,  1848,  Vol.  II.  p.  63.5. 

(published  at  Madiid,  1670,  4to, )  .says  '■*  Obras,  Tom.  X.  p.  45,  and  N.  An- 

tiiat  Quevedo  died  of  two  imposthumes  tonio,   Bib.  Nova,  Tom.   I.  p.  463.     A 

on  his  chest,  which  were  formed  during  considerable   amount   of  liis   miscella- 

his  last  imprisonment.  neons  works  may  be  found  in  the  Seini- 

The  jiortrait  of  Quevedo,  wearing  a  nario  Erudito,  Tom.  I.,  III.,  VI.,  and 

huge  pair   of  spectacles,  which  is  well  XV. 

engraved  for  the  fourth  volume  of  Se-  ^'^  Besides  these  dranuis,  whose  names 


328  QUEVEDO'S    POETRY.  [Pkuiod  II. 

Of  his  poetry,  so  far  as  we  know,  he  himself  pul)- 
lislied  nothing  with  his  name,  except  such  as  occurs  in 
his  poor  transhitions  from  Epictetus  and  Phocyhdes  ; 
but  in  the  tasteful  and  curious  collection  of  his  friend 
Pedro  de  Espinosa,  called  ''Flowers  of  Illustrious 
Poets,"  printed  when  Quevedo  was  only  twenty-five 
years  old,  a  few  of  his  minor  poems  are  to  be  found. 
This  was  probably  his  first  appearance  as  an  author; 
and  it  is  worthy  of  notice,  that,  taken  together,  these 
few  poems  announce  much  of  his  future  poetical 
character,  and  that  two  or  three  of  them,  like  the 
one  beginning, 

A  wight  of  might 

Is  Don  Money,  the  knight,"  '^ 

are  among  his  happy  efforts.  But  though  he  himself 
published  scarcely  any  of  them,  the  amount  of  his 
verses  found  after  his  death  is  represented  to  have 
been  very  great ;  much  greater,  we  are  assured,  than 
could  be  discovered  among  his  papers  a  few  years 
later,^^  —  probably  because,  just  before  he  died,  "  he 
denounced,"  as  we  are  told,  "all  his  works  to  the 
Hoi}'  Tribunal  of  the  Inquisition,  in  order  that  the 
parts  less  becoming  a  modest  reserve  might  be  re- 
duced, m  they  tvere,  to  just  measure  by  serious  and 
i:)rudent  retlection.^^ 

are  unknown  to  lis,  he  wrote,   in  con-  the  "  Entremeses  Nuevos,  1643";  but 

junction  with  Ant.   Huitado  de  Men-  I  think  there  are  others  still  in  manu- 

<loza,  and  at  the  connnand  of  the  Count  script. 

Duke  Olivares,  who  afterwards  treated  "  PoJeroso  cavallero 

1  .  11  1  11     1    <<  r\    •  Ks  Don  Dinero,  etc., 

hnn  so  cruelly,  a  ]>Iay  called  "Quicn  '       ' 

mas  niiente,  medra  nia.s,"  — Jfe,  that.  l.U:s  is  in  Pedro  Es])inosa,  "  Flores  de  Poetas 

'iiiost,  trill  rise,  mosc,  —  for  tJie  gorgeous  Ilustres,"  Madrid,  Itii).'),  4to,  f.  18. 

entertainment    that    jnodigal    miui.ster  ^'^   "Not  the  twentieth  jiart  was  saved 

gave  to  Philip  I V'^.  on  St.  John's  eve,  of  the  verses  which  many  persons  knew 

1631.     See  the  account  of  it  in  the  no-  to  have  been  extant  at  the  time  of  his 

tice  of  Lope  de  Vega,  ante,  j).  212,  and  death,  and  whicli,  during  our  constant 

post.  Chapter  XXI.,  note.     There  were  intercourse,  I  had  countless  times  held 

ten   "entremeses"   anfl  t<?n    "bayles"  in  my  hands,"  says  Gonzalez  de  Salas, 

among  his  dramas,  some  of  which  were  in  the  Preface  to  the  first  part  of  Quc- 

pul)li.shed  by  his  nejiiiew  in  the  "  Tres  vedo's  Poems,  1648. 

Ultimas  Musas"  in  1670,  and  some  in  ^^  Preface    to  Tom.    VII.   of  Obra.s. 


CiiAP.   XIX.]  QUEVEDO'S    POETRY.  o29 

*  Such  of  his  poetry  as  was  easily  foimd  was,  *  280 
however,  piibhshed  ;  —  the  first  part  by  his 
learned  friend  Gonzalez  de  Salas,  in  1648,  and  the 
rest,  in  a  most  careless  and  crude  manner,  by  his 
nephew,  Pedro  Alderete,  in  1670,  under  the  conceited 
title  of  "  The  Spanish  Parnassus,  divided  into  its  Two 
Summits,  with  the  Nine  Castilijin  Muses."  The  col- 
lection itself  is  very  miscellaneous,  and  it  is  not  always 
easy  to  determine  why  the  particular  pieces  of  which 
it  is  composed  were  assigned  ratlier  to  the  protection 
of  one  Muse  than  of  another.  In  general,  they  are 
short.  Sonnets  and  ballads  are  far  more  numerous 
than  anything  else  ;  though  candones,  odes,  elegies,, 
epistles,  satires  of  all  kinds,  idyls,  qidntiUas,  and  redon- 
dillas  are  in  great  abundance.  There  are,  besides,  four 
cntremeses  of  little  value,  and  the  fragment  of  a  poem 
on  the  subject  of  Orlando  Furioso,  intended  to  be  in  the 
manner  of  Berni,  but  running  too  much  into  caricature. 

The  longest  of  the  nine  divisions  is  that  which  passes 
under  the  name  and  authority  of  Thalia,  the  goddess, 
who  presided  over  rustic  wit,  as  well  as  over  comedy. 
Indeed,  the  more  prominent  characteristics  of  the 
whole  collection  are  a  broad,  grotesque  humor,  and  a 
satire  sometimes  marked  with  imitations  of  the  an- 
cients, especially  of  Juvenal  and  Persius,  but  oftener 
overrun  with  puns,  and  crowded  with  conceits  and 
allusions,  not  easily  miderstood  at  the  time  they  first 
appeared,    and    now   (juite    unintelligible.^^     His    1)ur- 

His    request    on    his    death-bed,    that  i*  "  Los    equivocos   y   las   a'usiones 

nearly  all  his  works,  printed  or  nianu-  suyas,"  says  his  editor  in  1648,  "son 

scrijjt,  might  be  suppressed,   is  tiiuni-  tan  frecjuentes  y  multiplicados,  aquello-; 

}ihaiitly  recorded  in  the  Index  Expur-  y  estas,  ansi  en  un  solo  v(;rso  y  aun  en 

gatorius  of  1667,  p.  425.      Some  of  them  una  palabra,  (jue  es  bieii  infalible  que 

are,   no  doubt,  foul  with  an  indecency  mucho  iiumero  sin   advertirse  se  haya 

which  will   nevi'r  permit  them  to  be  de  jjerder."     Obras,   Tom.  VII.,    Elo- 

jirinted,   or,   at  least,  never   ought   to  gios,  etc. 
liermit  it. 


330  QUEVEDO'S    POETRY.  [Period  II. 

lesque  sonnets,  in  imitation  of  the  Italian  poems  of 
that  chiss,  are  the  best  in  the  Language,  and  have  a 
bitterness  rarely  found  in  company  with  so  much  wit. 
Some  of  his  lighter  ballads,  too,  are  to  be  placed  in  the 
■very  first  rank,  and  fifteen  that  he  wrote  in  the  wild 
dialect  of  the  Gypsies  have  ever  since  been  the  de- 
light   of   the    lower  classes    of    his    countrymen,  and 

are  still,  or  were  lately,  to  be  heard  among 
*  281    their  *  other  popular  poetry,  sung  to  the  guitars 

of  the  peasants  and  the  soldiery  throughout 
Spain. ^^  In  regular  satire  he  has  generally  followed 
the  path  trodden  by  Juvenal ;  and,  in  the  instances  of 
his  complaint  "  Against  the  Existing  Manners  of  the 
Castilians,"  and  "  The  Dangers  of  Marriage,"  has 
proved  himself  a  bold  and  successful  disciple.^''  Some 
of  his  amatory  poems,  and  some  of  those  on  religious 
subjects,  especially  when  they  are  in  a  melancholy 
tone,  are  full  of  beauty  and  tenderness ;  ^'  and  once 
or  twice,  when  most  didactic,  he  is  no  less  powerful 
than  grave  and  lofty.^^ 

His  chief  fault — besides  the  indecency  of  some  of 
his  poetry,  and  the  obscurity  and  extravagance  that 
pervade  3'et  more  of  it  —  is  the  use  of  words  and 
phrases  that  are  low  and  essentially  unpoetical.  This, 
so  far  as  we  can  now  judge,  was  the  result  partly  of 
haste  and  carelessness,  and  partlj'  of  a  false  theory-. 
He  sought  for  strength,  and  he  became  affected  and 

1*  They  an'  at  the  end  of  the  seventh  somewhat  coarse,  tliough  not  so  bad  as 

volume  of  the  Obras,  and  also  in  Ilidal-  its  model  in  this  respect. 

go,  "Romances  de  Gemiania"  (Madrid,  i"  See  the  cancion  (Tom.  VII.  ]i.  323) 

1779,   12nio,    jip.   226-295).      Of  the  beginning,  "  Pues  quita  al  aho  Prima- 

ligliter  ballads   in   gooil  f'astilian,   we  vera  el  cefio  "  ;  also  some  of  the  poems 

may  notice,  especially,  '"Padre  Adan,  in  the   "Erato"   to  the  lady  he  calls 

ijo  liorids  duelos,"  (Tom.  VIII.  ]>.  1S7,)  "Fili,"  who  .seems  to  have  been  more 

and  "  Dijo  a  la  rana  el  mo.S([uito,"  Tom.  loved  by  him  than  any  other. 

VII.  )..  .514.  i»  Particularly    in     "The    Dream," 

i«  Obras,  Tom.   VII.  Y]k   192-200,  (Tom.  IX.  p.  296,)  and  in  the  "Hymn 

and  VIII.   i))i.   [j:yi-[,r,().     The  lu.st  is  to  the  Stars,"  p.  338. 


CirAP.  XIX.]  QUEVEDO'S    POETRY.  331 

rude.  But  we  should  not  judge  liim  too  severely.  He 
wrote  ii  great  deal,  and  with  extraordinary  facility,  but 
refused  to  print;  professing  his  intention  to  correct 
and  prepare  his  poems  for  the  press  when  he  should 
have  more  leisure  and  a  less  anxious  mind.  That  time, 
however,  never  came.  We  should,  therefore,  rather 
wonder  that  we  find  in  his  works  so  many  passages  of 
the  purest  and  most  brilliant  wit  and  poetry,  than  com- 
plain that  they  are  scattered  through  so  very  large  a 
mass  of  what  is  idle,  unsatisf^ictory,  and  sometimes 
unintelligible. 

Once,  and  once  only,  Quevedo  published  a  small 
volume  of  poetry,  which  has  been  supposed  to  be  his 
own,  though  not  originally  appearing  as  such.  The 
occasion  was  worthy  of  his  genius,  and  his  suc- 
cess was  equal  to  *  the  occasion.  For  some  *  282 
time,  Spanish  literature  had  been  overrun  with 
a  species  of  affectation  resembling  the  euphuism  that 
prevailed  in  England  a  little  earlier.  It  passed  under 
the  name  of  ciiUismo,  or  the  polite  .style ;  and  when  we 
come  to  speak  of  its  more  distinguished  votaries,  we 
shall  have  occasion  fully  to  explain  its  characteristic 
extravagances.  At  present,  it  is  enough  to  say,  that, 
in  Quevedo's  time,  this  fashionable  fanaticism  was  at 
the  height  of  its  folly  ;  and  that,  perceiving  its  absurd- 
ity, he  launched  against  it  the  shafts  of  his  unsparing 
ridicule,  in  several  shorter  pieces  of  poetry,  as  well  as 
in  a  trifle  called  "  A  Compass  for  the  Polite  to  steer  by," 
and  in  a  prose  satire  called  "A  Catechism  of  Phrases 
to  teach  Ladies  how  to  talk  Latinized  Spanish.''  ^^ 

But  finding  the  disease  deeply  fixed  in  the  national 

1^  There  are  several  poems  about  cul-  lowing    it    is    the    Catechism,    whose 

tismo,  Obras,  Tom.  VIII.,  pp.  82,  etc.  whimsical  title  I  have  abridged  some- 

The  "  Aguja  de  Navegar  Cultos"  is  in  what  freely. 
Tom.   I.  p.  443  ;  and  immediately  fol- 


332  EL    BACHILLER    DE    LA    TORRE.  [Period  H. 

taste,  and  models  of  a  purer  style  of  poetry  wanting 
to  resist  it,  he  printed,  in  1G31,  —  the  same  year  in 
which,  for  the  same  jDurpose,  he  published  a  collection 
of  the  poetry  of  Luis  de  Leon,  —  a  small  volume  which 
he  announced  as  "  Poems  by  the  Bachiller  Francisco 
de  la  Torre,"  —  a  person  of  whom  he  professed,  in  his 
Preface,  to  know  nothing,  except  that  he  had  acci- 
dentally found  his  manuscripts  m  the  hands  of  a  book- 
seller, with  the  Approbation  of  Alonso  de  Ercilla  at- 
tached to  them ;  and  that  he  supposed  him  to  be  the 
ancient  Spanish  poet  referred  to  by  Boscan  nearly  a 
hundred  years  before.  But  this  little  volume  is  a  work 
of  no  small  consequence.  It  contains  sonnets,  odes, 
canciones,  elegies,  and  eclogues ;  many  of  them  written 
w^ith  antique  grace  and  simplicity,  and  all  in  a  style 
of  thought  easy  and  natural,  and  in  a  versification  of 
great  exactness  and  harmony.  It  is,  in  short,  one  of 
the  best  volumes  of  miscellaneous  poems  in  the  Spanish 

lano;uao;e.^ 
*  283        *No  suspicion  seems  to  have  been  wdiispered, 

either  at  the  moment  of  their  first  publication, 
or  for  a  long  time  afterwards,  that  these  poems  were 
the  productions  of  any  other  than  the  unknown  per- 
sonage of  the  sixteenth  century  whose  name  appeared 
on  their  title-page.  In  1753,  however,  a  second  edition 
of  them  was  published  by  Velazquez,  the  author  of  the 
"  Essay  on  Spanish  Poetry,"  claiming  them  to  be  entirely 

2"  Perhaps  there  is  a  little  too  much  (p.  44)  beginning,  "  0  tres  y  quatro  veces 
of  the  imitation  of  Petrarch  and  of  the  venturosa,"  with  the  description  of  the 
Italians  in  tlie  Poems  of  the  P>a<liill('i-  dawn  of  day,  and  tlic  sonnet  to  Spring 
de  la  Torre  ;  but  they  are,  I  think,  not  (p.  12).  The  first  eclogue,  too,  and  all 
only  graceful  and  beautiful,  but  gen-  the  enckc/uis,  which  are  in  the  most 
erally  full  of  the  national  tone,  and  of  flowing  Adonian  verse,  should  not  be 
a  tender  spirit,  connected  with  a  sincere  overlooked.  Sometimes  he  has  un- 
love of  nature  and  natural  scenery.  I  rhymed  lyrics,  in  the  ancient  measures,, 
would  instance  the  oile,  "Ale.\is  fpie  not  always  successful,  but  seldom  with- 
contraria,"  in  the  edition  of  Vi-laziiuez,  out  beauty, 
(p.    17,)   and  the  truly   Horatian    ode 


(iiAP.  XL\.|  EL    BAClUJ.LEll    DE    ]>A    TOKKE.  333 

the  work  of  Quevedo  ;-^  —  a  claim  Avhicli  has  been  fre- 
quently noticed  since,  some  critics  admitting  and  some 
denying  it,  Ijut  none,  in  any  instance,  fjiirly  discussing 
the  grounds  on  which  it  is  placed  by  Velazquez,  or 
settling  their  validity.^^ 

The  question,  no  doubt,  is  among  the  more  curious 
of  those  that  involve  literary  authorship ;  but  it  can 
hardly  be  brought  to  an  absolute  decision.  The  argu- 
ment, that  the  poems  thus  published  by  Quevedo  are 
really  the  work  of  an  unknown  Bachiller  de  la  Torre, 
is  founded,  first,  on  the  alleged  approbation  of  them 
by  Ercilla,^^  which,  though  referred  to  by  Valdivielso, 
as  well  as  by  Quevedo,  has  never  been  printed  ;  and, 
secondly,  on  the  fact,  that,  in  their  general  tone,  they 
are  unlike  tRe  recognized  poetry  of  Quevedo, 
being  all  in  a  severely  simple  and  *  pure  style,  *  284 
whereas  he  himself  not  infrequently  runs  into 
the  affected  style  he  undoubtedly  intended  by  this 
w^ork  to  counteract  and  condemn. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  may  be  alleged,  that  the  pre- 
tended Bachiller  de  la  Torre  is  clearly  not  the  Bachiller 
de  la  Torre  referred  to  by  Boscan  and  Quevedo,  whb 

21  "  Poesi'as  que  publico  D.  Francisco  in  his  I>ife  of  Queveilo  ;  Seilano,  in  liis 

de  Quevedo  Villegas,  Cavallero  del  6r-  "  Painaso    Espafiol  "  ;    Luzan,    in    his 

den  de  Santiago,  Senor  de  la  Torre  de  "Poetica"  ;  Montiano,  in  an  ^^'r^^^*" 

Juan  Abad,  con  el  nonabre  del  Bachiller  cion ;  and  Bouterwek,  in  his  History. 

Francisco  de  la  Torre.     Anadese  en  esta  Martinez  de  la  Rosa  and  Faber  seem 

segunda  edicion  un  Discurso,  en  que  se  unable  to  decide.     But  none  of  them 

descubre  ser  el  verdadero  autor  el  mismo  gives  any  reasons.     I  have  in  the  te.xt, 

D.  Francisco  de  Quevedo,  por  D.  Luis  and  in  the  subsequent  notes,  stated  the 

Joseph  Velazquez,"  etc.     Madrid,  Xlh^,  case  as  fully  as  .seems  needful,  and  have 

4to.  .  no  doubt  that  Quevedo  was  the  author ; 

2^  Quintana  denies  it  in  the  Preface  or  that  he  knew  and  concealed  the  au- 
to his  Poesias  Castellanas"  (Madrid,  thor  ;  or  if  he  really  found  the  nianu- 
1807,  12ino,  Tom.  L  p.  xxxix).  So  sc^ript  in  the  way  he  describes,  that  he 
does  Fernandez,  (or  Estala  for  him, )  in  altered  and  prepared  the  poetry  in  it  s6 
his  Collection  of  "  Poesias  Castellanas"  as  to  fit  it  to  his  especial  purpose. 
(Madrid,  1808,  12mo,  Tom.  IV.  p.  40);  '^^  We  know,  concerning  the  conclu- 
and;  what  is  ot  more  significance,  so  sion  of  Ercilla's  life,  only  that  he  died 
does  Wolf,  in  the  Jahrbiicher  der  Lite-  as  early  as  1.59.5  ;  thirty-six  years  before 
ratur,  Wien,  1835,  Tom.  LXIX.  p.  189.  the  ])ublication  of  the  Bachelor,  and 
On  the  other  side  are  Alvarez  y  Baena,  when  Quevedo  was  only  fifteen  years  old. 


'SS-i  KL    BACUILT.ER    DE    LA    TOKKE.  [Period  IT. 

lived  in  the  time  of  Fenliiiund  and  Isabella,  and  whose 
rude  verses  are  found  in  the  old  Caneioneros  from  1511 
to  l-')7o  ;  '^  that,  on  the  contrary,  the  forms  of  the  poems 
published  by  Que^■edo,  their  tone,  their  thouglits,  their 
imitations  of  Petrarch  and  of  the  ancients,  their  versi- 
fication, and  their  language,  —  except  a  few  antiquated 
words  which  could  easih^  have  been  inserted,  —  all  be- 
loug  to  his  own  age ;  that  among  Quevedo's  recognized 
poems  are  some,  at  least,  which  prove  he  was  capable 
of  writing  any  one  among  those  attributed  to  the  Ba- 
chiller  de  la  Torre ;  and  finally,  that  the  name  of  the 
Bachiller  Francisco  de  la  Torre  is  merelv  an  ingenious 
diso-nise  of  his  own.  since  he  was  himself  a  Bachelor  at 
Alcala,  had  been  baptized  Francisco,  and  was  the  owner 
of  Torre  de  la  Abad,  in  which  he  sometimes  resided, 
and  which  was  twice  the  place  of  his  exile.^ 

There  is,  therefore,  no  doubt,  a  mystery  about  the 
wdiole  matter  which  will  probably  never  be  cleared  up ; 
and  we  can  now  come  to  only  one  of  three  conclu- 
sions :  —  either  that  the  poems  in  c|uestion  were  found 
by  him,  as  he  says  they  were,  in  which  case  he  must 
have  altered  them  materially,  so  that  they  could  serve 
the  object  he  avowed  in  publishing  them ;  or  that  they 
are  the  work  of  some  contemporary  and  friend 
*  285    of  Quevedo,  whose   name  *  he  knew  and  con- 

^  It  is  even  doubtful  who  tliis  Bachil-  the  few  poems  wliioh  maybe  found  in 

ler  de  la  Tone  of  Bo.scan  was.     Velaz-  the  Cancionero  of  1.573,  at  H'.  I'2i-r27, 

quez  (Pref.,  v)  thinks  it  was  probably  etc.,  do  with  those  jniblished  by  Que- 

jilonso    de    la    Torre,    author    of    the  vedo.     Gayangos   (Spanish  translation 

"Vision  Deleytable,"  (circa  1461,)  of  of  this  History,  Tom.  II.  p.  560)  saj-s 

which  we  have  spoken  (Vol.  I.  ]).  377) ;  there  are,  in  the  Cancionero  of  Estufii- 

and  Alvarez  y  Baena  (Hijos  de  Madrid,  ga,  poems  by  a  Fei-nando  de  la  Tone, 

Tom.   IV.   p.   169)  thinks  it  may  per-  and  that  he  lived  in  the  time  of  John 

haps  have  been  Prdro  Di'iz  de  la  Torre,  II.,  i.  e.  before  14.54.     But,  as  Gayan- 

who  died  in  1504,  one  of  the  counsel-  gos   adds   truly,   this  does   not,  en   Jo 

lors  of  Fsrdinand  and  Isabella.     But,  maJi  minimo,  help  to  clear  up  the  ques- 

in  cither  ca.se,  the  name  does  not  cor-  tion. 

respond  with  that  of  Quevedo's  Bachil-  ^  He  was  exiled  there  in  1628,  for 

ler  Franci-tco  de  la  Torre,   any  better  si.x  months,  as  well  as  imprisoned  there 

than  the  style,  thoughts,  and  forms  of  in  1620.     Obras,  Tom.  X.  p.  88. 


•Chai'.   XL\.]  QUEVEDo's    PROSE    WORKS.  335 

•cealed  ;  or  that  tliey  were  selected  by  liiinsclf  out 
of  the  great  mass  of  •  his  own  unpublished  manu- 
scripts, choosing  such  as  would  be  least  likely  to  betray 
their  origin,  and  most  likel}',  b}'  their  exact  finish  and 
good  taste,  to  rebuke  the  folly  of  the  affected  and 
fashionable  poetry  of  his  time.  But  whoever  may  be 
their  author,  one  thing  is  certain, —  they  are  not  un- 
Avorthy  the  genius  of  any  poet  belonging  to  the  bril- 
liant age  in  which  they  appeared. ^^ 

Quevedo's  principal  works,  however,  —  those  on 
which  his  reputation  mainly  rests,  both  at  home  and 
abroad,  —  are  in  prose.  The  more  grave  will  hardly 
come  under  our  cognizance.  They  consist  of  a  trea- 
tise on  the  Providence  of  God,  including  an  essay  on 
the  Immortality  of  the  Soul ;  a  treatise  addressed  to 
Philip  the  Fourth,  singularly  called  "  God's  Politics 
and  Christ's  Government,"  in  which  he  endeavors  to 
collect  a  complete  body  of  political  j)hilosopliy  from 
the  example  of  the  Saviour ;  ^"  treatises  on  a  Holy 
Life  and  on  the  Militant  Life  of  a  Christian  ;  and 
biographies  of  Saint  Paid  and  Saint  Thomas  of 
Villanueva.  These,  with  translations  of  Epictetus 
and    the    false    Phocylides,   of    Anacreon,   of  Seneca, 

^  It  is  among  the  suspicious  uircum-  P-"^  His  "  Politica  de  Dios"  was  begun 
stances  accompanying  the  tirst  puhli-  during  his  first  imprisonment,  and  the 
cation  of  the  Bachiller  de  la  Torre's  first  edition  —  or  rather  what  was  sulv 
works,  that  one  of  the  two  persons  wlio  sequently  enlarged  into  the  First  Book 
give  tlie  required  Aprobaciones  is  Van-  — of  it  was  jmblished  in  162fi,  wiMi  a 
der  Hammen,  who  played  the  same  sort  dedication  dated  from  his  jjrison,  2r)tli 
of  trick  upon  the  public  of  wliicli  Que-  April,  1621,  to  the  Count  Olivares,  who 
vedo  is  accused  ;  a  vision  he  wrote  be-  became  afterwards  his  cruel  persecutor, 
iag,  to  this  day,  printed  as  Quevedo's  This  dedication,  however,  was  super- 
own,  in  Quevedo's  works.  The  other  seded  by  one  to  the  King,  prefixed  to 
person  who  gives  an  Aprohacinn  to  the  the  completed  treatise,  and  found  among 
Bachiller  de  la  Torre  is  Valdivielso,  a  Quevedo's  papers  after  his  death.  I 
critic  of  the  seventeenth  century,  whose  have  a  copy  of  the  very  curious  edition 
name  often  occurs  in  this  play  ;  wlio.se  first  above  referred  to,  which,  with  sev- 
authority  on  such  points  is  small  ;  and  eral  other  of  his  works,  was  ])ublished 
who  does  not  say  that  he  ever  ,9«?/;  the  at  Zaragoza,  probably,  I  think,  because 
manuscript  or  the  Approbation  of  Er-  the  censorship  of  the  press  was  a  little 
cilia.  See,  for  Vander  Hanimen,  ^>o.s-^,  less  severe  in  Aragon  than  it  was  in 
p.  291.  Castile. 


Oo6  TAUL    THE    SlIAKPEK.  [rKuioD  IL 

''  De  Eeiiiediis  iitriusque  Fortimt'e."  of  Plutarch's 
'•Marcus  Brutus,"  aud  other ♦  similar  works,  seem  to 
have  been  chiefly  produced  by  his  sufferings,  and 
to     have    constituted    the    occupation     of    his    weary 

hours  during  his  different  imprisonments.  As 
*  286    their  titles  indicate,  *  they  belong,  except  the 

Anacreon,  to  theology  and  metaplnsics  rather 
than  to  elegant  literature.  They,  however,  sometimes 
show  the  spirit  and  the  style  that  mark  his  serious 
poetry  ;  —  the  same  love  of  brilliancy,  and  the  same 
extravagance  and  hyperbole,  with  occasional  didactic 
passages  full  of  dignity  and  eloquence.  Their  learn- 
ing is  generally  abundant,  but  it  is  often  pedantic 
and  cumbersome.^^ 

Not  so  his  prose  satires.  By  these  he  is  remem- 
bered, and  will  always  be  remembered,  throughout 
the  world.  The  longest  of  them,  called  -'The  His- 
tory and  Life  of  the  Great  Sharper,  Paul  of  Segovia," 
was  first  printed  in  1626.  It  belongs  to  the  style 
of  fiction  invented  by  Mendoza.  in  his  "Lazarillo." 
and  has  most  of  the  characteristics  of  its  class ;  show- 
ing, notwithstanding  the  evident  haste  and  careless- 
ness with  which  it  was  written,  more  talent  and  spirit 
than  any  of  them,  except  its  prototype.  Like  the  rest, 
it  sets  forth  the  life  of  an  adventurer,  cowardly,  inso- 

^  These  works,   chiefly   theological,  would  look  on  one  of  Mvirillo's  grand 

metaphysical,  and  ascetic,  fill  more  than  pictures  of  the  charities  of  the   same 

six  of  the  eleven  octavo  volumes  that  beneficent   man    of  God.       This   little 

constitute  Quevedo's  works  in  the  edi-  volume,    it    should    be    added,    is   the 

tion  of  1791-1794,  and  belong  to  the  earliest  of  Quevedo's   known    publiea- 

class  of  didactic  prose.  tions,  and  one  of  tlie  rarest  books  in 

The  Life  of  St.  Tliomas  de  Villanue-  the  world, 

va,  by  Quevedo,  is  an  abiidgment,  has-  Quevcdo  valued  himself  a  good  deal 

tily  made  in  twelve  days  from  a  larger  on  his  "Marco  Bruto,"  which  he  was 

work  on  the  .same  subject,  to  meet  the  emjiloyed   in  correcting  just  before  he 

popular   demand   for  the   apjuoaching  died,  and  on  his  "  Komulo,"  which  was 

canonization  of  that  admirable!  jwrson  a  translation  from  a  work  of  the  same 

in  1620.      It  makes  a  neat  little  volume,  title,  by  the  Jlarquis  Malvezzi,  an  Ital- 

which  I  posses.s,  and  which  may  be  read  ian  diplomatist  mucli  in  tiie  service  of 

with  plea-sure   by  the  .severest   Protes-  Philip  IV.,  and  at  one  time  his  Ambas- 

tant,  — with  the  .same  pleasure  that  he  sador  in  London. 


Chap.  XIX.]  PAUL    THE    ailAKPER.  337 

lent,  and  full  of  resources,  who  begins  in  the  lowest 
and  most  infamous  ranks  of  society,  but,  unlike  most 
others  of  his  class,  he  never  fairly  rises  above  his 
original  condition ;  for  all  his  ingenuity,  wit,  and 
spirit  only  enable  him  to  struggle  up,  as  it  were  by 
accident,  to  some  brilliant  success,  from  which  he  is 
immediately  precipitated  by  the  discovery  of  his  true 
character.  Parts  of  it  are  very  coarse.  Once  or  twice 
it  becomes  —  at  least  according  to  the  notions  of  the 
Romish  Church  —  blasphemous.  And  almost  always 
it  is  in  the  nature  of  a  caricature,  overrun  with  con- 
ceits, puns,  and  a  reckless,  fierce  humor.  But  every- 
where it  teems  with  wit  and  the  most  cruel 
sarcasm  against  all  *  orders  and  conditions  of  *  287 
society.  Some  of  its  love  adventures  are  excel- 
lent. Many  of  the  disasters  it  records  are  extremely 
ludicrous.  But  there  is  nothing  genial  in  it ;  and  it  is 
hardly  possible  to  read  even  il^s  scenes  of  frolic  and 
riot  at  the  University,  or  those  among  the  gay  rogues 
of  the  capital  or  the  gayer  vagabonds  of  a  strolling 
company  of  actors,  with  anything  like  real  satisfaction. 
It  is  a  satire  too  hard,  coarse,  and  unrelenting  to  be 
amusing  .^^ 

29  Watt,  in  his  Bibliotheca,  art.  Que-  Salas  Barbadillo,  he  has  made  a  mul- 
vedo,  cites  au  edition  of  "  El  Gran  Ta-  titude  of  petty  addition.s,  alterations, 
cano,"  at  Zaragoza,  1626  ;  and  I  think  and  omissions  ;  some  desirable,  per- 
there  is  a  copy  of  it  in  the  British  haps,  from  the  indecency  of  the  origi- 
Museum.  Since  that  time,  it  lias  ap-  nal,  others  not ;  and  winds  off  the  whole 
peared  in  the  original  in  a  gi'eat  num-  with  a  conclusion  of  his  own,  which 
ber  of  editions,  both  at  home  and  savors  of  the  sentimental  and  extrava- 
abroad.  Into  Italian  it  was  translated  gant  school  of  Victor  Hugo.  There  is, 
by  P.  Franco,  as  early  as  1634  ;  into  also,  a  translation  of  it  into  English, 
French  by  Genest,  the  well-known  in  a  collection  of  some  of  Quevedo's 
translator  of  that  period,  as  early  as  AVorks,  printed  at  Edinburgh,  in  3 
1641  ;  and  into  English,  anonymously,  vols.,  8vo,  1798  ;  and  a  German  trans- 
as  early  as  16.57.  Many  other  versions  lation  in  Bertuch's  j\Iagazin  der  Span- 
have  been  made  since  ; — the  last,  known  ischen  und  Portug.  Litteratur  (Dessau, 
to  me,  being  one  of  Paris,  1843,  8vo,  1781,  8vo,  Band  II.).  But  neither  of 
by  A.  Germond  de  Lavigne.  His  trans-  them  is  to  be  commended  for  its  fidel- 
lation  is  made  with  spirit ;  but,  besides  ity.  Dr.  Julius  .says,  there  was  a  Ger- 
that  he  has  thrust  into  it  passages  from  man  translation  of  it  published  at  Leiji- 
other  works  of  Quevedo,  and  a  .story  by  zig  (1826,   2  vols.)  by  a  female  hand, 


338  OTHER    PROSE    SATIRES.  [Period  IJ. 

This,  too,  is  the  character  of  most  of  his  other 
prose  satires,  which  were  cliieflj  written,  or  at  least 
pubhshed,  nearly  at  the  same  period  of  his  life  ;  —  the 
interval  l^etween  his  two  great  imprisonments,  when 
the  first  had  roused  up  all  his  indignation  against  a 
condition  of  society  which  could  permit  such  intol- 
erable injustice  as  he  had  suffered,  and  before  the 
crushing  severity  of  the  last  had  broken  down  alike 
his  health  and  his  courao-e.  Ainoncr  them  are  the 
treatise  '-On  all  Things  and  many  more,"  —  an  attack 
on  pretension  and  cant  ;  '•  The  Tale  of  Tales,"  which  is 
in  ridicule  of  the  too  frequent  use  of  proverbs  ;  and 
••  Time's  Proclamation,"  which  is  apparently  directed 
against  whatever  came  uppermost  in  its  author's 
thoughts  when  he  was  writing  it.  These,  however, 
with  several  more  of  the  same  sort,  may  be  passed 
over  to   speak  of  a  few  better  known   and  of  more 

importance.^ 
*  288  *  The  first  is  called  the  '•  Letters  of  the 
Knight  of  the  Forceps,"  and  consists  of  two- 
and-twenty  notes  of  a  miser  to  his  lady-love,  refusing 
all  her  applications  and  hints  for  money,  or  for  amuse- 
ments that  involve  the  shghtest  expense.  Nothing 
can  exceed  their  dexterit}-,  or  the  ingenuity  and  wit 
that  seem  anxious  to  defend  and  vindicate  the  mean 
vice,  which,  after  all,  they  are  only  making  so  much 
the  more  ridiculous  and  odious.^^ 

The  next  is  called  '•  Fortune  no  Fool,  and  the  Hour 
of  All "  ;  —  a  long  apologue,   in   which   Jupiter,  sur- 

and  anotlier  by  Gutteiistern  in  1841.  in  lti27  ;  and  tliere  i.s  a  very  good  trans- 
He  kindly  forbears  to  give  the  lady's  lation  of  them  iu  Band  I.  of  the  Maga- 
name,  though  she  had  put  it  on  her  zin  of  Bertuch,  an  active  man  of  letters, 
own  title-page.  the   friend   of   Musiius,   Wieland,    and 

**  They  are  in  Vols.  Land  11.  of  the  Goethe,   who,  by  translation;;,   and  in 

edition  of  his  Works,  Madrid,  1791,  8vo.  other  ways,    did  much,   between   1769 

*i  The  "Cartas  del  Cavallero  de  la  and  1790,  to  promote  a  love  for  Spau- 

Tenaza  "  were  first  printed,   I  believe,  ish  literature  in  Germany. 


Chap.  XIX.]  FORTUNE    NO    FOOL.  339 

rounded  by  the  deities  of  Heaven,  calls  Fortune  to 
account  for  her  gross  injustice  in  the  aftiiirs  of  the 
world  ;  and,  having  received  from  her  a  defence  no 
less  spirited  than  amusing,  deteiinines  to  try  the  ex- 
periment, for  a  single  hour,  of  apportioning  to  every 
human  being  exjictly  what  he  deserves.  The  sub- 
stance of  the  fiction,  therefore,  is  an  exhibition  of  the 
scenes  of  intolerable  confusion  which  this  single  hour 
brings  into  the  affairs  of  the  world  ;  turning  a  phy- 
sician instantly  into  an  executioner ;  manying  a 
match-maker  to  the  ugly  phantom  she  w^as  endeav- 
oring to  pass  off  upon  another  5  and,  in  the  larger 
concerns  of  nations,  like  France  and  Muscov}^,  intro- 
ducing such  violence  and  uproar,  that,  at  last,  by  the 
decision  of  Jupiter  and  with  the  consent  of  all,  the 
empire  of  Fortune  is  restored,  and  things  are  allowed 
to  go  on  as  they  ahvays  had  done.  Many  parts  of  it 
are  written  in  the  gayest  spirit,  and  show  a  great  hap- 
piness of  invention  ;  but,  from  the  absence  of  mucli  of 
Quevedo's  accustomed  bitterness,  it  may  be  suspected, 
that,  though  it  was  not  printed  till  several  years  after 
his  death,  it  was  probably  written  before  either  of  his 
imprisonments.'^^ 

*  But  what   is  wanting   of  severity  in    this    *  289 
whimsical  fiction  is  fully  made  up  in  his  Vis- 
ions, six  in  number,  some  of  which  seem  to  have  been 
published  separately  soon  after  his  first  persecution, 
and  all  of  them  in  1635.*^     Nothing  can  well  be  more 

^'^  I  know  of  no  edition  of  "La  For-  it  must  have  been  written  as  early  as 

tuna  con  Seso"  earlier  than  one  I  pos-  1638,  becau.se  it  speaks  of  Louis  XIII. 

.sess,  printed  at  Zaragoza,  1650,  12nio  ;  as  beinpj  Mithont   hope   of  issue,   and 

and  as  N.  Antonio  declares  this  satire  Louis  XIV.  was  born  in  that  year, 

to  have   been   a   po.sthumous  work,   I  ■^  One  of  these  Sucilos  is  dated  as 

suppose  there  is  none  older.     It  is  there  early   as    1607, — the    "  Zahurdas    de 

said  to  be  translated  from  the  Latin  of  Pluton "  ;    but    none,     I    tliink,    was 

KifroscrancotViveque  VasgelDuacense  ;  printed  earlier  than  1627;  and  all  the 

an  imperfect  anagram  of  Quevedo's  own  six  that»are  certainly  by  (^uevinlo  were 

name,  Francisco  QuevedoVillegas.     But  first  printed  together  in  a  small  coUec- 


340  YISIOXS.  [Pkriod  II. 

free  and  miscellaneous  than  their  subjects  and  con- 
tents. One,  called  "El  Alguazil  alguazilado,"  or  The 
Catchpole  Caught,  is  a  satire  on  the  inferior  officers  of 
justice,  one  of  whom  being  possessed,  the  demon  com- 
plains bitterly  of  his  disgrace  in  being  sent  to  inhabit 
the  bod}^  of  a  creature  so  infamous.  Another,  called 
"  Visita  de  los  Chistes,"  A  Visit  in  Jest,  is  a  visit  to  the 
empire  of  Death,  who  comes  sweeping  in  surrounded 
by  ph^'sicians,  surgeons,  and  esj^ecially  a  great  crowd 
of  idle  talkers  and  slanderers,  and  leads  them  all  to  a 
sight  of  the  infernal  regions,  w^ith  which  Quevedo  at 
once  declares  he  is  already  familiar  through  the  crimes 
and  follies  to  which  he  has  lono;  been  accustomed  on 
earth.  But  a  more  distinct  idea  of  his  free  and  bold 
manner  will  pro1)ably  be  obtained  from  the  opening  of 
his  '-Dream  of  Skulls,"  or  "Dream  of  the  Judgment," 
than  from  any  enumeration  of  the  subjects  and  con- 
tents of  his  Visions ;  especiallj'  since,  in  this  instance, 
it  is  a  specimen  of  that  mixture  of  the  solemn  and  the 

ludicrous  in  which  he  so  much  delisfhted. 
*  290        *  ^'Methought  I  saw,"  he  saj's,  "a  fair  j^outh 

borne  with  prodigious  speed  through  the  heav- 

tiou  of  his  satirical  works  that  appeared  deed,  the  gi'eat  popularit\-  of  his  trans- 
at  Barcelona,  in  1635,  entitled  "Jugu-  lations  was  prohably  owing,  in  no  small 
etes  de  la  Fortuna."  The}'  were  trans-  degree,  to  the  additions  he  boldly  made 
lated  into  French  by  Genest,  and  print-  to  his  text,  and  the  fre(|ueiit  accommo- 
ed  in  1641.  Into  English  they  were  dations  he  hazarded  of  its  jests  to  the 
very  freely  rendered  liy  Sir  Roger  L'Es-  scandal  and  taste  of  his  times  by  allu- 
trange,  and  published  in  1668  with  sions  entirely  English  and  local.  The 
.such  .success,  that  the  tenth  edition  of  Visions,  besides  the  translation  of  Cie- 
them  was  ])rinted  at  London  in  1708,  nest  above  referred  to,  were  evidently 
8vo,  and  I  believe  there  was  3-et  one  in  fashion  in  France  still  later,  for  I 
more.  This  is  the  basis  of  the  transla-  have  seen,  —  (1.)  L'algouasil  (.sie)  bur- 
tions  of  the  Visions  found  in  Quevedo's  lesque  imite  de  Don  F.  de  Quevedo, 
AVork.s,  Edinburgh,  1798,  Vol.  1.,  and  &c.,  par  le  Sieur  de  Bourneuf  P.  Pari.s, 
in  Roscoe's  Novelists,  1832,  Vol.  II.  1657,  8vo,  pp.  143;  (2.)  L'Enfer  bur- 
All  the  tran.slations  I  have  seen  are  lesque  tiree,  &c.,  par  M.  I.  C  Paris, 
bad.  The  best  Is  that  of  L'Estrange,  1668,  12mo,  ])p.  81;  and  (3.)  Hor- 
or  at  least  the  most  sjiirited  ;  but  still  rcur  des  Hoireurs  .sans  Horreurs  tiree 
L'Estrange  is  not  always  faithful  when  des  Vi.sions,  &e.,  par  Mons.  Isaulnay. 
he  knew  the  meaning,  and  he  Is  .some-  Paris,  1671,  8vo.  Thej^  are  all  in 
times  unfaithful  from  ignorance.     In-  verse. 


Chap.  XIX.J  VISIONS.  341 

ens,  who  gave  a  blast  to  his  trumpet  so  violent,  that 
the  radiant  beauty  of  his  countenance  was  in  part  dis- 
figured by  it.  But  the  sound  was  of  such  jDOwer,  that 
it  found  obedience  in  marble  aud  hearing  among  the 
dead  ;  for  the  whole  earth  began  straightway  to  move, 
and  give  free  permission  to  the  bones  it  contained  to 
come  forth  in  search  of  each  other.  And  thereupon 
I  presently  saw  those  who  had  been  soldiers  and  cap- 
tains start  fiercely  from  their  graves,  thinking  it  a 
signal  for  battle ;  and  misers  coming  forth,  fall  of 
anxiety  aud  alarm,  dreading  some  onslaught ;  while 
those  who  were  given  to  vanity  and  feasting  thought, 
from  the  shrillness  of  the  sound,  that  it  was  a  call  to 
the  dance  or  the  chase.  At  least,  so  I  interpreted  the 
looks  of  each  of  them,  as  they  sprang  forth ;  nor  did  I 
see  one,  to  whose  ears  the  sound  of  that  trumjiet  came, 
who  understood  it  to  be  what  it  really  was.  Soon, 
however,  I  noted  the  way  in  which  certain  souls  fled 
from  their  former  bodies ;  some  with  loathing,  and 
others  with  fear.  In  one  an  arm  was  missing,  in  an- 
other an  eye ;  and  while  I  was  moved  to  laughter  as  I 
saw  the  varieties  of  their  appearance,  I  was  filled  with 
wonder  at  the  wise  providence  which  prevented  any 
one  of  them,  all  shuffled  together  as  they  were,  from 
putting  on  the  legs  or  other  limbs  of  his  neighbors. 
In  one  graveyard  alone  I  thought  that  there  was  some 
changing  of  heads,  and  I  saw  a  notary  whose  soul  did 
not  quite  suit  him,  and  who  wanted  to  get  rid  of  it  by 
declaring  it  to  be  none  of  his, 

"  But  when  it  was  fairly  understood  of  all  that  this 
was  the  Day  of  Judgment,  it  was  worth  seeing  how 
the  voluptuous  tried  to  avoid  having  their  eyes  found 
for  them,  that  they  need  not  bring  into  court  witnesses 
against  themselves,  —  how  the  malicious  tried  to  avoid 


342  VISIONS.  [Period  II. 

their  own  tongues,  and  how  robbers  and  assassins 
seemed  willing  to  wear  oat  their  feet  in  running  away 
from  their  hands.  And  turning  partly  round,  I  saw 
one  miser  asking  another  (who,  having  been  embalmed 
and  his  bowels  left  at  a  distance,  was  waiting 
*  291  silently  till  they  should  *  arrive),  whether,  be- 
cause the  dead  were  to  rise  that  day,  certain 
money-bags  of  his  must  also  rise.  I  should  have 
laughed  heartily  at  this,  if  I  had  not,  on  the  other  side, 
pitied  the  eagerness  with  which  a  great  rout  of  notaries 
rushed  by,  flying  from  their  own  ears,  in  order  to  avoid 
hearing  Avhat  awaited  them,  though  none  succeeded  in 
escaping,  except  those  who  in  this  world  had  lost  their 
ears  as  thieves,  which,  owing  to  the  neglect  of  justice, 
was  by  no  means  the  majority.  But  what  I  most  won- 
dered at  was,  to  see  the  bodies  of  two  or  three  shop- 
keepers, that  had  put  on  their  souls  wrong  side  out, 
and  crowded  all  five  of  their  senses  under  the  nails  of 
their  right  hands." 

The  "  Casa  de  los  Locos  de  Amor,"  the  Lovers'  Mad- 
house, —  which  is  placed  among  Quevedo's  Visions, 
though  it  has  been  declared  to  be  the  work  of  his 
friend  Lorenzo  Vander  Hammen,  to  whom  it  is  dedi- 
cated,—  lacks,  no  doubt,  the  freedom  and  force  which 
characterize  the  Vision  of  the  Judgment.^*     But  this 

^  The  six  Tiniiuestioned  Suertos  are  tyndo.     I5iit  it  is  much  more  likely  that 

in  Tom.    I.   of  tlie   Madrid  edition  of  Quevedo  should  have  coiintenanceil  this 

Quevedo,    1791.      The    "Casa    de    los  little  si^^^crc/wr/e  of  his  friend,  than  that 

Locos  de  Amor"  is  in  Tom.   II.  ;  and  Nicolas  Antonio  should  have  been  de- 

as  N.  Antonio  (Bih.  Nov.,  I.  462,  and  liberately    imjio.sed    upon    by    Vander 

II.   10)  says  Vander  Hannnen,  a  Span-  Hammen.       Besides,   large  portions  of 

ish  author  of  Flemish  descent,  told  him  the  "Oa.sa  de  los  Locos  de  Amor"  are 

that  he  wrote  it  himself,  we  are  bound  beneath  the  talent  of  (^)uevedo,  and  not 

to  take  it  from  the  piopcr  list  of  Que-  at  all  in  his  manner.     Vander  Hammen 

vedo's  works.     This,  however,  has  been  was  the  author  of  several  works   now 

sometimes  thought  to  be  a  ]iieee  of  van-  forgotten  ;  but,  in  his  time,  he  was  con- 

ity  and  falsehood  in  Vander  Hannnen,  nected  with    men   of  note.      Lope   de 

because  in  1G27  he  had  dedicated  sev-  Veg;v  dedicated   to  him   "El  Bobo  del 

ei-al  of  the  Visions- — the  one  in  ques-  Colegio,"  in  1620,  begging  him  to  pub- 

tion  -among    the   rest —  to    Francisco  lish  his  "Secretario,"  which,  however, 

Ximenez  de  Urrea,  as  tlie  works  of  Que-  I  believe,  never  was  printed. 


CuAi'.  XIX. J  QUEVEDO  b    CUAKACTEli.  6i6 

is  a  remark  that  can  by  no  means  be  extended  to  the 
Vision  of  "Las  Zahurdas  de  Pliiton,"  Pluto's  Pigsties, 
which  is  a  show  of  what  may  be  called  the  rabble  of 
Pandemonium  ;  '•  El  Mundo  por  de  Dentro,"  The  World 
Inside  Out;  and  "El  Entremetido,  la  Duefia,  y  el  So- 
plon,"  The  Busybody,  the  Duemia,  and  the  Informer; 
- —  all  of  which  are  full  of  the  most  truculent  sarcasm, 
recklessly  cast  about  by  one  to  whom  the  world  had 
not  been  a  friend,  nor  the  world's  law. 

In  these  Visions,  as  well  as  in  nearly  all  that 
Quevedo  *  wrote,  much  is  to  be  found  that  indi-  *  292 
cates  a  bold,  original,  and  independent  spirit. 
His  age  and  the  circumstances  amidst  which  he  was 
placed  have,  however,  left  their  traces  both  on  his 
poetry  and  on  his  prose.  Thus,  his  long  residence  in 
Italy  is  seen  in  his  frequent  imitations  of  the  Italian 
poets,  and  once,  at  least,  in  the  composition  of  an  origi- 
nal Italian  sonnet ;  '^  - —  his  cruel  sufferings  during  his 
different  persecutions  are  apparent  in  the  bitterness 
of  his  invectives  everywdiere,  and  especially  in  one  of 
his  Visions,  dated  from  his  prison,  against  the  adminis- 
tration of  justice  and  the  order  of  society ;—- while 
the  influence  of  the  false  taste  of  his  times,  which,  in 
some  of  its  forms,  he  manfully  resisted,  is  yet  no  less 
apparent  in  others,  and  persecutes  him  with  a  per- 
petual desire  to  be  brilliant,  to  say  something  ((uaint 
or  startling,  and  to  be  pointed  and  epigrammatic. 
But  over  these,  and  over  all  his  other  defects,  his 
genius  from  time  to  time  rises,  and  reveals  itself  with 
great  power.  He  has  not,  indeed,  that  sure  perception 
of  the  ridiculous  which  leads  Cervantes,  as  if  by  instinct, 
to  the  exact  measure  of  satirical  retribution  ;  but  he 
perceives  quickly  and  strongly ;  and  though  he  often 

^  Obras,  Tom.  VII.  j).  289. 


344 


FRANCISCO    DE    QUEVEDO. 


[Pekiou  II. 


errs,  from  the  exag-o-eration  and  coarseness  to  which  he 
so  much  tended,  yet,  even  in  the  passages  where  these 
faults  most  occur,  we  often  find  touches  of  a  solemn 
and  tender  beauty,  that  show  he  had  higher  powers 
and  better  quaUties  than  his  extraordinary-  wit.  and 
add  to  the  effect  of  the  whole,  thougli  witliout  recon- 
cilinii'  us  to  the  broad  and  o-ross  farce  that  is  too  often 
luino'led  with  his  satire.^^ 


^  A  \iolent  attack  was  made  on  Qne- 
vedo,  ten  yeai-s  before  his  death,  in  a 
volume  entitled  "  El  tiibunal  de  la 
Justa  Venganza,"  printed  at  Valencia, 
1635,  12mo,  pp.  294,  and  said  to  be 
written  by  the  Licenciado  Arnaldo 
Eranco-Fuit ;  a  pseudonyme,  which  is 
-supposed  to  conceal  the  names  of  Mon- 
talvan,  of  Father  Niseuo,  who  busied 
himself  in  getting  Quevedo  put  on  the 
Index  Expurgatorius,  and  of  other  per- 
sons ;  for  such  a  satirist  could  not  lie 
wanting  in  enemies.  The  "Tribunal" 
is  thrown  into  the  form  of  a  trial,  before 
regular  judges,  of  the  satirical  works  of 
Quevedo  then  published  ;  and,  except 
when  the  religious  prejudices  of  the 
authors  i)revail  over  their  judgment, 
is  not  more  severe  than  Quevedo's 
license  merited.  No  honor,  however,  is 
done  to  his  genius  or  his  wit ;  and  per- 
.sonal  malice  seems  apparent  in  many 
jjarts  of  it.  At  the  beginning  it  is  inti- 
mated that  it  was  written  at  Seville. 


Probably  the  Jesuits  there  had  a  hand 
in  it,  but,  as  it  is  adruitted  that  then; 
were  several  authors,  so  it  is  possible 
that  it  was  prepared  in  diS'erent  places. 
In  1794,  Sancha  printed,  at  Madrid, 
a  translation  of  Anacreon,  with  notes 
by  Quevedo,  making  160  pages,  but 
not  numbering  them  as  a  part  of  the 
eleventh  volume,  8vo,  of  Quevedo's 
Works,  which  he  completed  that  j'ear. 
Thej"  are  more  in  the  terse  and  classical 
manner  of  the  Bachiller  de  la  Torre  than 
the  same  nmnber  of  pages  anj^vhere 
among  Quevedo's  earlier  printed  works  ; 
but  the  translation  is  not  very  strict, 
and  the  spirit  of  the  original  is  not  so 
well  caught  as  it  is  b)'  Estevan  Manuel 
de  Villegas,  whose  "Eroticas"  ^nll  be 
noticed  hereafter.  The  version  of  Que- 
vedo is  dedicated  to  the  Duke  of  Ossu- 
na,  his  patron,  Madrid,  l.st  April,  1609. 
Villegas  did  not  pul)li.sh  till  1617  ;  but 
it  is  not  likely  that  he  knew  anything 
of  the  labors  of  Quevedo. 


*rHAPTEE    XX.  *294 

THE    DRAMA. MADRID    AND    ITS    THEATRES. DAMIAN    DE    VEGAS. FRANCIS- 
CO   DE     TARREGA.  —  GASPAR     DE     AGUILAR. GUILLEN     DE     CASTKO. LUIS 

VELEZ    DE    GUEVARA. JUAN    PEREZ    DE    MONTALVAN. 

The  want  of  a  great  capital,  as  a  common  centre  for 
letters  and  literary  men,  was  long  felt  in  Spain.  Until 
the  time  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  the  conntryy 
broken  into  separate  kingdoms,  and  occupied  by  con- 
tinual conflicts  with  a  hated  enemy,  had  no  leisure  for 
the  projects  that  belong  to  a  period  of  peace  ;  and 
even  later,  when  there  was  tranquillity  at  home,  the 
foreign  wars  and  engrossing  interests  of  Charles  the 
Fifth  in  Italy,  Germany,  and  the  Netherlands  led  him 
so  much  abroad,  that  there  was  still  little  tendency  to 
settle  the  rival  claims  of  the  great  cities  ;  and  the 
court  resided  occasionally  in  each  of  them,  as  it  had 
from  the  time  of  Saint  Ferdinand.  But  already  it  was 
plain  that  the  preponderance  which  for  a  time  had 
been  enjoyed  by  Seville  was  gone.  Castile  had  pre- 
vailed in  this,  as  it  had  in  the  greater  contest  for  giv- 
ing a  language  to  the  country  ;  and  Madrid,  which 
had  been  a  favorite  residence  of  the  Emperor,  because 
he  thought  its  climate  dealt  gently  with  his  infirmities,, 
began,  from  1560,  under  the  arrangements  of  Philip 
the  Second,  to  be  regarded  as  the  real  caj)ital  of  the 
whole  monarchy.^ 

1  Qiiintana,  Historia  de  Madrid,  1630,  lii-s  cai)ital.     f'liarles,  indeed,  permitted 

folio.    Lib.    III.    c.    24-26.      Cabrera,  Madrid  in   1a4i  to  take  a  ei-ovvn  iiita 

Historia  de  Felipe,   II.,  Madrid,  1619,  its  eKcutclieoii,  sinee  whieh  time  it  has 

folio,    lil).    V.    e.    9  ;    where    he    says  been  ('ailed  Villa  Imperml  y  Coroiiada^ 

Charles  V.  had  intended  to  make  Madriil  (Origen  de  Maihid,  ec.,  por  ,)u;m  Ant. 


"346  THE  DRAMA. DAMIAN  DE  VEGAS.        [Pi:iaoi>  II. 

*.295  *  Oil  110  department  of  Spanish  literature  did 
this  circumstance  produce  so  considerable  an 
influence  as  it  did  on  the  drama.  In  1583.  the  foun- 
dations for  the  two  regular  theatres  that  have  con- 
tinued such  ever  since  were  already  laid  ;  and  from 
about  1590,  Lope  de  Vega,  if  not  the  absolute  mon- 
arch of  the  stage  that  Cervantes  describes  him  to  have 
been  somewhat  later,  was  at  least  its  controlling  spirit. 
The  natural  consequences  followed.  Under  the  influ- 
ence of  the  nobility,  who  thronged  to  the  royal  resi- 
dence, and  led  by  the  example  of  one  of  the  most 
popular  writers  and  men  that  ever  lived,  the  Spanish 
theatre  rose  like  an  exhalation  ;  and  a  school  of  poets 
—  niar-V  of  whom  had  hastened  from  Seville,  Valencia, 
and  other  parts  of  the  country,  and  thus  extinguished 
the  hopes  of  an  independent  drama  in  the  cities  they 
deserted  —  was  collected  around  him. in  the  new  cap- 
ital, until  the  dramatic  writers  of  Madrid  became  sud- 
denly more  numerous,  and  in  many  respects  more 
remarkable,  than  an}'  other  similar  body  of  poets  in 
modern  times. 

The  period  of  this  transition  of  the  drama  is  well 
marked  by  a  single  provincial  play,  the  "  Comedia 
Jacobina,"  printed  at  Toledo  in  1590,  but  written,  as 
its  author  intimates,  some  years  earlier.  It  was  the 
^voik  of  Damian  de  Vegas,  an  ecclesiastic  of  that  city, 
and  is  on  the  subject  of  the  blessing  of  Jacob  by  Isaac. 
Its  structure  is  simple,  and  its  action  direct  and  unem- 
barrassed. As  it  is  religious  throughout,  it  belongs,  in 
this  respect,  to  the  elder  school  of  the  drama ;  but,  on 

Pf'llicor.  Madiiil,  4to,  1803,  p.  97.)  ly  Spanish  book  to  sliow  forth  tlit;  glo- 
But  it  has  always  \>m:u  a  favored  lity.  ries  of  the  capital,  entitled  "Solo  Ma- 
in le.'iS,  Alonso  Nnucz  de  Castro,  Oen-  drid  es  Corte."  The  disi)lay  in  it  of 
<>ral  Chronicler  of  Spain  and  author  of  the  wealth  of  the  hierarchy  and  of  some 
several  works  of  conse(|uenee  to  the  of  the  great  military  orders  may  w(dl 
national  lustoiy,  published  a  thorough-  be  called  astounding. 


Chap.  XX.]  FRANCISCO    DE    TAKKEGA.  347 

the  other  hand,  as  it  is  divided  into  three  acts,  has  a 
prologue  and  epilogue,  a  chorus  and  much  lyrical  po- 
etry in  various  measures,  as  well  as  poetry  in  terza  rima 
and  blank  verse,  it  is  not  unlike  what  was  attempted 
about  the  same  time,  on  the  secular  stage,  by  Cer- 
vantes and  Argensola.  Though  uninteresting  in  its 
plot,  and  dry  and  hard  in  its  versification,  it  is  not 
wholly  without  poetical  merit ;  but  we  have  no  proof 
that  it  ever  was  acted  in  Madrid,  or,  indeed,  that 
it  was  known  on  the  stage  *  beyond  the  limits  *  296 
of  Toledo  ;  a  city  to  which  its  author  was  much 
attached,  and  where  he  seems  always  to  have  lived.^ 

Whether  Francisco  de  Tarrega,  who  can  be  traced 
from  1591  to  1608,  was  one  of  those  who  early  came 
from  Valencia  to  Madrid  as  writers  for  the  theatre,  is 
uncertain.  But  we  have  proof  that  he  was  a  canon  of 
the  cathedral  in  the  first-named  city,  and  yet  was  well 
known  in  the  new  capital,  where  his  plays  were  acted 
and  printed.^  One  of  them  is  important,  because  it 
shows  the  modes  of  representation  in  his  time,  as  well 
as  the  peculiarities  of  his  own  drama.  It  begins  with 
a  loa,  which  in  this  case  is  truly  a  compliment,  as  its 
name  implies ;  but  it  is,  at  the  same  time,  a  witty  and 

2  The  "Comedia  Jacobina"  is  found  Tarrega  lived  at  Valencia  in  1591,  and 
in  a  curious  and  rare  volume  of  re-  wrote  eleven  or  twelve  plaj's,  two  of 
ligious  poetry,  entitled  "  Libro  de  Poe-  wliiidi  are  known  only  by  their  titles, 
siaj  Christiana,  Moral,  y  Diviua,"  ])or  The  rest  were  printed  at  Madrid  in 
el  Doctor  Frey  Damian  de  Vegas  (To-  1614,  and  again  in  1616.  Cervantes 
ledo,  1590,  12nio,  ff.  503).  It  contains  jiraises  liini  in  the  Preface  to  his  Oome- 
a  poem  on  the  Immaculate  Conception,  dias,  1615,  among  the  early  followers 
the  turning-point  of  Spanish  orthodoxy ;  of  Lope,  for  his  discrecion  e  inumcrablcs 
a  colloquy  between  a  damsel  and  a  too  concnjitos.  It  is  evident  from  the  no- 
free  lover;  a  colloquy  between  the  Soul,  tice  of  the  "  Enemiga  Favorable,"  by 
the  Will,  and  the  Understanding,  the  wise  canon  in  Don  Quixote,  that  it 
which  may  have  been  represented ;  and  was  then  regarded  as  the  best  of  its 
a  gi-eat  amount  of  religious  poetry,  both  author's  plays,  as  it  has  Ix'cn  ever 
lyric  and  didactic,  much  of  it  in  the  since.  Rodrigtu'z,  Biblioteca  Vah-nti- 
old  Spanish  measures,  and  much  in  the  na,  Valencia,  1747,  folio,  p.  146.  Xi- 
Italian,  but  little  of  it  better  than  the  meno,  Escritores  de  Valencia,  Valencia, 
mass  of  poor  verse  on  such  subjects  then  1747,  Tom.  I.  p.  240.  Fuster,  Biblioteca 
in  favor.  Valentina,  Valencia,  1827,  folio,  Tom.  I. 

'^  It  is  ascertained   that   the   Canon  p.  310.     Don  Qui.xote,  Parte  I.  c.  48. 


348  FKANClbCO    DE    TARHEGA.  [Peuiop  II. 

([iiaiiit  ballad  in  praise  ot"  ugl}'  women.  Then  eomes 
what  is  called  a  "  Dance  at  Leganitos," — a  poj^ular 
resort  in  the  snburbs  of  Madrid,  which  here  gives  its 
name  to  a  rnde  farce  fonnded  on  a  contest  in  the  open 
street  between  two  lackeys.^ 

After  the  audience  have  thus  been  put  in 
*  297  good-humor.  *  we  have  the  principal  phiy. 
called  "'  The  Well-disposed  Enemy  "  ;  a  wild,  but 
not  uninteresting,  heroic  drama,  of  which  the  scene  is 
laid  at  the  court  of  Naples,  and  the  plot  turns  on  the 
jealousy  of  the  Neapolitan  king  and  queen.  Some 
attempt  is  made  to  compress  the  action  within  prol)- 
able  limits  of  time  and  space  ;  but  the  character  of 
Laura  —  at  first  in  love  with  the  king  and  exciting 
him  to  poison  the  queen,  and  at  last  coming  out  in 
disguise  as  an  armed  champion  to  defend  the  same 
([ueen  when  she  is  in  danger  of  being  put  to  death 
on  a  false  accusation  of  infidelity  —  destro3^s  all  regu- 
larity of  movement,  and  is  a  blemish  that  extends 
through  the  whole  i3iece.  Parts  of  it,  however,  are 
spirited,  like  the  oiDcning, —  a  scene  full  of  life  and 
nature,  —  where  the  court  rush  in  from  a  bull-fight, 
that  had  been  suddenly  broken  up  by  the  personal 
danger  of  the  kmg ;  and  jDarts  of  it  are  poetical,  like 
the  first  interview  between  Laura  and  Belisardo,  whom 
she  finally  marries,"     But  the   impression  left  b}'  the 

*  This  farce,  much  like  an  eiUremes  Eimas,  (1612,  f.  125,  b, )  and  the  foun- 

or  sayiicte  of  modern  times,  is  a  quarrel  tain    is    aj^jropriately   introduced,    for 

between  two  lackeys  for  a  damsel  of  Leganitos  was  famous  for  it.     (See  Cer- 

their  own  condition,  wliich  ends  with  vantes,  Ilustre  Fregona,  and  Don  Quix- 

one  of  them  being  lialf  drowned  by  the  ote.  Parte  II.   e.   22,  with  the  note  of 

other  in  a  public  fountain.     It  winds  Pellicer. )      Such    little    circunistanres 

up  with  a  ballad  older  tlian  itself ;  for  abound  in  the  jjopular  portions  of  the 

it  alludes  to  a  street  a.s  being  about  to  be  old  Spanish  drama,  and  added  much  to 

constructedthroughLf'ganitos,  whileone  its  efiV-ct  at  the^tinie  it  appeai-ed,  and 

of  the  personages  in  tlie  farce  speaks  of  especialh*  to  its  effect  when  represented, 
the  street  as  already  there.     Tlie  ballad  *  The   "  Enemiga  Favorable"  is  the 

seems  to  be   claime<l   by  .Sains  Barba-  last  jilay  in  an  imjiortant  volume  marked 

dillo.     At  least,   I   find  it  among  his  as  the  fifth  of  the  Collection    of  the 


Chap.  XX.]  GASPAll    DE    AGUILAR.  349 

whole  is,  that,  tlioiigh  the  path  opened  by  Lope  de 
Vega  is  the  one  that  is  followed,  it  is  followed  with 
footsteps  ill-assured,  and  a  somewhat  uncertain  pur- 
pose. 

Gaspar  de  Aguilar  was,  as  Lope  tells  us,  the  rival  of 
Tarrega.*'  He  was  secretary  to  the  Viscount  Clielva, 
and  afterw^ards  inajor-domo  to  the  Duke  of  Gandia, 
one  of  the  most  prominent  noblemen  at  the  court  of 
Philip  the  Third.  But  an  allegorical  poem,  which 
Aguilar  wrote,  in  honor  of  his  last  patron's  marrijige, 
found  so  little  favoi-,  that  its  unhappy  author,  dis- 
couraged and  repulsed,  died  of  mortification. 
He  lived,  *  as  Tarrega  probably  did,  both  in  *  298 
Valencia  and  in  Madrid,  and  wrote  several 
minor  poems,  besides  one  of  some  length  on  the 
expulsion  of  the  Moors  from  Spain,  which  was  printed 
in  1610.  The  last  date  we  have  relating  to  his  un- 
fortunate career  is  1623. 

Of  the  eight  or  nine  plays  he  published,  only  tw^o 
can  claim  our  notice.  The  first  is  "  The  Merchant 
Lover,"  jD^'^i'^ed  by  Cervantes,  Avho,  like  Lope  de 
Vega,  mentions  Aguilar  more  than  once  with  respect. 
It  is  the  story  of  a  rich  merchant,  who  pretends  to 
have  lost  his  fortune  in  order  to  see  whether  either 
of  two  ladies  to  whose  favor  he  aspires  loved  him  for 
his  own  sake  rather  than  for  that  of  his  money  ;  and  he 

"  Diferentes   Comedias,"    published   at  the  story  of  a  great  robber  who  becomes 

Alcala  in  1615,  at  Madrid  in  1616,  and  a  great  saint,  and  may  have  suggested 

at  Barcelona  the  same  year,   of  which  to  Calderon  his  "Devocion  de  la  Cruz." 

Lord  Taunton  has  a  copy  at  Stoke,  and  Six  more  of  his  plays  may  be  found  in 

of  which  there  is  another  at  the  Biblio-  the  very  rare  "  Doze  Comedias  de  qua- 

teca   Ambrogiana    in    Milan,    both   of  tro  Poetas  de  Valencia,"  1609,  which  I 

which    I    have    seen.      (See  Vol.    III.,  i)osse.ss,  but  they  are  not  so  good  as  tin; 

Appendix   F. )      The   play  in   ijuestion  "  Enemiga  Favorable."     I  think  there 

is  divided  into  three  jorimdas,   called  arc   twelve   of  his  plays,   in  all,   still 

ados,  and  shows  otherwise  that  it  was  extant. 

constructed   on    the    model   of   Lope's  •>  "  Laurel  de  .\ polo,"  (Madrid,  1630, 

dramas.      But    Tarrega   wrote   also   at  4to,  f.  21,)  where  Lope  says,  sjieaking 

least  one  religious  play,    "The  Foun-  of  Tarrega,    "Gaspar  Aguilar  competia 

dation  of  the  Order  of  Meicy."     It  is  con  el  en  la  draniatica  poesia." 


3o0  GASPAR    DE    AGUILAR.  [Period  II. 

finally  marries  the  one  who,  on  this  hard  trial,  proves 
herself  to  be  disinterested.  It  is  preceded  by  a  pro- 
logo^  or  loa,  which  in  this  case  is  a  mere  jesting  tale  ; 
and  it  ends  with  six  stanzas,  sung  for  the  amusement 
of  the  audience,  about  a  man  who,  having  tried  unsuc- 
cessfully many  vocations,  and,  among  the  rest,  those  of 
fencing-master,  poet,  actor,  and  tapster,  threatens,  in 
despair,  to  enlist  for  the  wars.  Neither  the  beginning 
nor  the  end,  therefore,  has  anvthing;  to  do  with  the 
subject  of  the  play  itself,  which  is  written  in  a  spirited 
style,  but  sometimes  shows  Ijad  taste  and  extrava- 
gance, and  sometimes  runs  into  conceits. 

One  character  is  happily  hit,  —  that  of  the  lady 
who  loses  the  rich  merchant  by  her  selfishness.  When 
he  first  tells  her  of  his  pretended  loss  of  fortune,  and 
seems  to  bear  it  with  courage  and  equanimity,  she 
goes  out  saying,  — 

Heaveu  save  me  from  a  husband  such  as  this, 
Who  finds  himself  so  easily  consoled  ! 
Why,  he  would  he  as  ga}^,  if  it  were  iiu 
That  he  had  lost,  and  not  his  money  ! 

And  again,  in  the  second  act,  where  she  finally  rejects 
him,  she  says,  in  the  same  jesting  spirit,  — 

Would  you,  sir,  see  that  you  are  not  a  man,  — 
Since  all  that  ever  made  you  one  is  gone,  — 
*  299  *  (The  figure  that  lemains  availing  but 

To  bear  the  emiity  name  that  marked  yoii  once,)  — 
Go  and  proclaim  aloud  your  loss,  my  friend, 
And  then  inquire  of  your  own  memory 
What  has  become  of  you,  and  who  you  are  ; 
And  you  will  learn,  at  once,  that  you  are  not 
The  man  to  whom  I  lately  gave  my  heart. '^ 

1  Dios  me  g:narde  de  hombre  Haz  luego  un  alarde  aqui 

Que  tan  pronto  so  consuela,  De  tu  perdida  notoria ; 

Que  lo  niismo  hari  dc  mi.  Toma  cuenta  a  tu  memoria; 

Merc-ader  Aniante,  .lorn.  I.  P''^';  ^  "  "isino  por  ti 

Veras  que  no  eres  aquel 

Quiere.""  ver  que  no  t-rcs  hombre,  A  quien  di  mi  corazon. 
Pues  el  str  tuvo  ha.'*  |)crdido  ; 

y  que  de  aquello  ciue  ha.s  Hide,  Ibid.,  Jorn.  11. 

No  te  queila  sino  el  nombrc  ? 


Chap.  XX.]  GASPAR    UE    AGUILAR.  351 

What,  perhaps,  is  most  remarkable  about  this  drama 
is,  that  the  iinit}^  of  place  is  observed,  and  possibly  the 
unity  of  time  ;  a  circumstance  which  shows  that  the 
freedom  of  the  Spanish  stage  from  such  restraints  was 
not  yet  universally  acknowledged. 

Quite  different  from  this,  however,  is  "  The  Unfore- 
seen Fortune "  ;  a  play  which,  if  it  have  only  one 
action,  has  one  whose  scene  is  laid  at  Saragossa,  at 
Valencia,  and  along  tbe  road  between  these  two  cities, 
while  the  events  it  relates  fill  up  several  years.  The 
hero,  just  at  the  moment  he  is  married  by  proxy  in 
Valencia,  is  accidentally  injured  in  the  streets  of  Sara- 
gossa, and  carried  into  the  house  of  a  stranger,  where 
he  falls  in  love  with  the  fair  sister  of  the  owner,  and 
is  threatened  with  instant  deatli  by  her  brother,  if 
he  does  not  marry  her.  He  yields  to  the  threat. 
They  are  married,  and  set  out  for  Valencia.  On  the 
way,  he  confesses  his  unhappy  position  to  his  bride, 
and  very  coolly  proposes  to  adjust  all  his  difficulties 
by  putting  her  to  death.  From  this,  however,  he  is 
turned  aside,  and  they  arrive  in  Valencia,  where  she 
serves  him,  from  blind  affection,  as  a  voluntary  slave  ; 
even  taking  care  of  a  child  that  is  borne  to  him  by  his 
Valencian  wife. 

Other  absurdities  follow.  At  last  she  is  driven  to 
declare  publicly  who  she  is.  Her  ungrateful  husband 
then  attempts  to  kill  her,  and  thinks  he  has 
succeeded.  *He  is  arrested  for  the  supposed  *  300 
murder ;  but  at  the  same  instant  her  brother 
arrives,  and  claims  his  right  to  single  combat  with  the 
offender.  Nobody  will  serve  as  the  base  seducer's 
second.  At  the  last  moment,  the  injured  lady  herself, 
presumed  till  then  to  be  dead,  appears  in  the  lists, 
disguised  in  complete  armor,  not  to  protect  her  guilty 


352  GUILLEX    DE    CA.STKO.  [rKKiou  IL 

liusbaiid.  but  to  vindicate  her  own  honor  and  prowess. 
Ferdinand,  the  king,  who  pre.sides  over  the  combat, 
interferes,  and  the  strange  show  ends  b}'  her  marriage 
to  a  former  k)ver.  who  has  hardly  been  seen  at  all 
on  the  stage,  —  a  truly  "  Unforeseen  Fortune,"  which 
gives  its  name  to  the  ill-constructed  drama. 

The  poetrj',  though  not  absolnteh^  good,  is  better 
than  the  action.  It  is  generally  in  flowing  qidniillas, 
or  stanzas  of  five  short  lines  each,  but  not  without 
long  portions  in  the  old  ballad-measure.  The  scene 
of  an  entertainment  on  the  sea-shore  near  Valencia, 
where  all  the  parties  meet  for  the  first  time,  is  good. 
So  are  portions  of  the  last  act.  But.  in.  general  the 
whole  -pla}'  abounds  in  conceits  and  puns,  and  is  poor. 
It  opens  with  a  loa,  whose  object  is  to  assert  the  uni- 
versal emi^ire  of  man  ;  and  it  ends  with  an  address  to 
the  audience  from  King  Ferdinand,  in  which  he  de- 
clares that  nothing  can  give  him  so  much  jDleasure  as 
the  settlement  of  all  these  troubles  of  the  lovers,  ex- 
cept the  conquest  of  Granada.  Both  are  grotesquely 
inappropriate.^ 

Better  known  than  either  of  the  last  authors  is 
another  Valencian  poet,  Guillen  de  Castro,  who,  like 
them,  was  respected  at  heme,  but  sought  his  fortunes 
in  the  capital.  He  was  born  of  a  noble  ftimily,  in 
1569,  and  seems  to  have  been  early  distinguished, 
in  his  native  city,  as  a  man  of  letters;  for,  in  1591. 
he  was  a  member  of  the  Noctunios,  one  of  the  most 
successful    of    the    fantastic    associations    established 

*  The  accounts  of  Agiiilar  are  fouiul  gled  with  the  plays  of  other  poets.     A 

in    Rodriguez,    pp.    1-18,    149,    and   in  cojn-  of  tlie  "Suerte   sin   Esperanza," 

Ximeno,   Tom.    I.    p.    2.55.  who,  as  is  whieli    I    jiossess,  without  date  or  pa- 

often  the  ca.se,  has  done  little  but  ar-  ging,    seems    older.      A    copy   of    his 

range  in  better  order  tlie  materials  col-  "  Venganza  Honrosa"  is  to  be  found 

lected  by  Rodriguez.     Seven  of  Agui-  as   the   ftfth   play   in    Vol.    V.   of  the 

lar's  jdays   are  in    collections   printed  "DiferentcsComedias/'oneutionedoji^e, 

at  Valencia   in    1009   and   1616,    min-  note  5. 


Chap.  XX.J  GUILLKX    DE    CASTRO.  353 

in  Spain,   in   imitation  *  of  tlio   Aeadcmias   that    *  301 
had  been   foi-   some   time   fashionable   in  Italy. 
His  literary  tendencies  were  further  cultivated  at  the 
meetings,  of  this   society,  Avhere  he   found   among  his 
associates  Tarrega,  Aguilar,  and  Artieda.^ 

His  life,  however,  was  not  wholly  devoted  to  letters. 
At  one  time,  he  was  a  captain  of  cavalry  ;  at  another, 
he  stood  in  such  favor  with  Benevente,  the  mmiificent 
viceroy  of  Naples,  that  he  had  a  place  of  consequence 
intrusted  to  his  government ;  and  at  Madrid  he  was  so 
well  received,  that  the  Duke  of  Ossuna  gave  him  an 
annuity  of  nearly  a  thousand  crowns,  to  which  the 
reigning  flivorite,  the  Count  Duke  Olivares,  added  a 
royal  pension.  But  his  unequal  humor,  his  discon- 
tented spirit,  and  his  hard  o])stinacy  ruined  his  for- 
tunes, and  he  was  soon  obliged  to  write  for  a  living. 
Cervantes  speaks  of  him,  in  1615,  as  among  the  pop- 
ular authors  for  the  theatre,  and  in  1620  he  assisted 
Lope  at  the  festival  of  the  canonization  of  San  Isidro, 
wrote  several  of  the  pieces  that  were  exhibited,  and 
gained  one  of  the  prizes.  Six  years  later  he  was  still 
earning  a  painful  subsistence  as  a  dramatic  writer ; 
and  in  1631  he  died  so  poor,  that  he  was  buried  by 
charity. ^'^ 

Very  few  of  his  works  have  been  published,  except 
his  plays.     Of  these  we  have  n^rly  forty,  printed  be- 

^  In  the  note  of  Cerda  y  Rico  to  the  other   distinguished   Valencians — was 

"Diana"  of  Gil  Polo,  1802,   pp.  515-  painted   for  a  gallery  in  Valencia   by 

519,   is  an  account  of  this  Academy,  Juan   de   Ribalta,   who   died   in    1628. 

and   a   list  of  its   members.      Barrera  Those  of  Tarrega,  Aguilar,  and  Guillen 

says   it   lasted   oidy   from   October    4,  de  Castro  are  likely  to  have  been  oi'igi- 

1591,    to    April    13,    1593,    and    that  nals,  since  these  poets  Avere  contempo- 

Aguilar  was  one  of  its  founders.  rary  with  Ribalta,  and  the  whole  col- 

1°  Rodriguez,  p.  177  ;  Ximeno,  Tom.  lection,  consisting  of  thirty-one  heads, 

I.   p.    305  ;    Fuster,    Tom.    I.    p.    235.  was   extant    in   tlie    Monastery   of  La 

The  last  is  important  on  this  subject.  Murta  de   San  Geronimo,   when   C'eau 

The  portrait  of  Guillen  —  together  with  Bermudez  pre])ared   his  Dictioiuiry  of 

the  portraits  of  Gaspar  de  Aguilar,  Luis  Artists.     See  Tom.   IV.,  1800,  p.  181. 

Vive.s,  Ausias  March,  Jayine  Roig,  Fran-  They  are  now,  I  believe,  in  possession  of 

Cisco  Tarrega,  Francisco  de  Borja,  and  the  Academy  of  San  Carlos  at  Valencia. 
VOL.   II.                     23 


354  GUILLEX    DE    CASTRO.  [Pj:i:iud  II. 

tween  1G14  and  IGoO.  They  belong  decidedly  to  the 
school  of  Lope,  between  whom  and  Guillen  de  Castro 
there  was  a  friendship,  which  can  be  traced  back,  by 
the  Dedication  of  one  of  Lope's  plays,  and  1:^^  several 
passages  in  his  miscellaneous  works,  to  the  period  of 

Lope's  exile  to  Valencia ;  while,  on  the  side 
*  302    of  Guillen  de   *  Castro,  a   similar  testimony  is 

borne  to  the  same  kindly  regard  by  a  volume 
of  his  own  jilays,  addressed  to  Marcela,  Lope's  favorite 
daughter. 

The  marks  of  Guillen  de  Castro's  personal  condition, 
and  of  the  age  in  which  he  lived  and  wrote,  are  no  less 
distinct  in  his  dramas  than  the  marks  of  his  poetical 
allegiance.  His  '■'  Mismatches  in  Valencia  "  seems  as 
if  its  story  might  have  been  constructed  out  of  facts 
within  the  poet's  own  knowledge.  It  is  a  series  of 
love  intrigues,  like  those  in  Lope's  plays,  and  ends 
with  the  dissolution  of  two  marriages  by  the  influence 
of  a  lady,  avIio,  disguised  as  a  page,  lives  in  the  same 
house  with  her  lover  and  his  wife,  but  whose  machina- 
tions are  at  last  exposed,  and  she  herself  driven  to  the 
usual  resort  of  entering  a  convent.  His  ''Don  Quix- 
ote," on  the  other  hand,  is  taken  from  the  First  Part 
of  Cervantes's  romance,  then  as  fresh  as  an}'  Valencian 
tale.  The  loves  of  Dorothea  and  Fernando,  and  the 
madness  of  Cardenio,#form  the  materials  for  its  prin- 
cipal i)lot,  and  the  dtnouonent  is  the  transportation  of 
the  knight,  in  a  cage,  to  his  own  house,  by  the  curate 
and  barber,  just  as  he  is  carried  liome  by  them  in  the 
romance  ;  —  parts  of  the  story  being  slightly  altered 
to  give  it  ;i  more  dramatic  turn,  though  the  language 
of  the  original  fiction  is  often  retained,  and  the  obli- 
gations to  it  are  fully  recognized.  Both  of  these 
dramas  ai'e   wiitten   chiefly  in  the  old  rcdoiidi/la^,  with 


CiiAi>.  XX.]  GUILLEN    DE    CASTRO.  355 

a  careful  versification  ;  but  there  is  little  poetical  in- 
vention in  either  of  them,  and  the  first  act  of  the 
"  Mismatches  in  Valencia "  is  disfigured  by  a  game 
of  wits,  fashionable,  no  doubt,  in  society  at  the  time, 
but  one  that  gives  occasion,  in  the  phiy,  to  nothing 
but  a  series  of  poor  tricks  and  puns.^^ 

*  Very  unlike  them,  though  no  less  character-  *  303 
istic  of  the  times,  is  his  "  Mercy  and  Justice  "  ; 
—  the  shocking  story  of  a  prince  of  Hungary  con- 
demned to  death  by  his  father  for  the  most  atrocious 
crimes,  but  rescued  from  punishment  by  the  multitude, 
because  his  loj^alty  has  survived  the  wreck  of  all  his 
other  principles,  and  led  him  to  refuse  the  throne 
offered  to  him  by  rebellion.  It  is  written  in  a  greater 
variety  of  measures  than  either  of  the  dramas  just 
mentioned,  and  shows  more  freedom  of  style  and  move- 
ment ;  relying  chiefly  for  success  on  the  story,  and  on 
that  sense  of  loyalty  which,  though  originally  a  great 
virtue  in  the  relations  of  the  Spanish  kings  and  their 
people,  Avas  now  become  so  exaggerated,  that  it  was 
undermining  much  of  what  was  most  valuable  in  the 
national  character.^^ 

"  Santa  Barbara,  or  the  Mountain  Miracle  and  Heav- 

^1  Both  these  pla3^s  ai'e  in  the  first  Que  cordura,  que  coiwierto, 
Yohime    of   his   Comedias,    printed   in  Tendr6yo,  siestoy  sia  mi? 
T  ^1  J      1     J.   T   1.          XL     T\       K    •      ±.     ■                    S'li  ser,  sm  alma  y  sin  ti  ? 
1614;  but  I  have  the  Don  Quixote  in  Ay,  Lueinda,  que  me  has  muerto ! — 
a  separate  pamphlet,  without  paging  or  ^^.i  ^^  on.     Guerin  de  Bouscal,  one  of 
date,  and  with  rude  woodcuts,  such  as  ^  considerable  number  of  French  dram- 
belong  to  the  oldest  Spanish  pubhca-  ^^^^^^  (,^^  Puibuscpie,  Tom.  H.  p.  441) 
tious  of  the  sort.     The  first  time  Don  ...i^^  ^^^^^^^^-^  ^^^^{  to  g      .i^h  sources 
Quixote  appears  in  it   the  stage  direc-  i^^^v;^,^  1630  and  1650,   brought  this 
tion  IS,      Enter  Don  Quixote  on  Rozi-  drama  of  Guillen  on  the  French  stage 
nante,  dressed  as  he  is  described  in  his  j,^  ^g.^g  ° 
book."     The  rcrfojicZtZte  in  this  drama,          ,2  J^ -j,    j,^    ^he    second   volume  of 
regarded  as  mere  verses   are  excellent ;  Guillen's  plays;  but  it  is  also  in  the 
\^-  <-ai-demo  s  lamentations  at  the  end  .<  yi^,.  ^e  las'Mejores  Doce  Comedias," 
of  the  first  act  :-  ,,t^_^  Un.Aru\,  1652.     Guillen  dedic^ates 
Dondc  me  llevan  los  pies  hi^  ■^e'jond  volume,   which  I  found  in 
Sin  la  vida?  *E1  seso  pierdo",  the  Vatican,  by  a  few  affectionate  words, 
Pero  como  ser6  cuerdo  to  his  cousiu  Dona  Ana  Figuei'ola  y  de 
Si  fue  traydor  el  Marques  ?  Castro 


356  GUILLEX    DE    CASTRO.  [Peuiod  II. 

en's  Martyr."  belongs,  again,  to  another  division  of  the 
poiDidar  drama  as  settled  by  Lope  de  Vega.  It  is  one 
of  those  phns  where  human  and  Divine  love,  in  tones 
too  much  resembling  each  other,  are  exhibited  in  their 
strongest  light,  and,  Hke  the  rest  of  its  class,  was  no 
doubt  a  result  of  the  severe  legislation  in  relation  to 
the  theatre  at  that  period,  and  of  the  influence  of  the 
clergv  on  which  that  legislation  was  founded.  The 
scene  is  laid  in  Xicomedia.  in  the  thii'd  century,  when 
it  was  still  a  crime  to  profess  Christianity;  and  the 
story  is  that  of  Saint  Barbara,  according  to  the  legend 
that  represents  her  to  have  been  a  contemporary  of 
Origen,  who,  in  foct.  appears  on  the  stage  as  one  of  the 
principal  personages.  At  the  opening  of  the  drama, 
the  heroine  declares  that  she  is  already.,  in  her  heart, 
attached  to  the  new  sect ;  and  at  the  end,  she  is  its 

triumjDliant  martyr,  carrying  with  her,  in  a  pub- 
*  304    lie  profession  of  its  faith,  *  not  only  her  lover, 

but  all  the  leading  men  of  her  native  city. 
One  of  the  scenes  of  this  play  is  particularly  in  the 
spirit  and  fjiith  of  the  age  when  it  was  written;  and 
was  afterwards  imitated  by  Calderon  in  his  "  Wonder- 
working Magician."  The  lady  is  represented  as  con- 
fined by  her  father  in  a  tower,  where,  in  solitude,  she 
gives  herself  up  to  Christian  meditations.  Suddenly 
the  arch-eneni}'  of  the  human  race  presents  himself 
before  her,  in  the  dress  of  a  fashionable  Spanish  gal- 
lant, lie  gives  an  account  of  his  adventures  in  a  fanci- 
ful allegory,  but  does  not  so  effectually  conceal  the 
truth  that  she  fails  to  suspect  who  he  is.  In  the  mean 
time,  her  father  and  her  lover  enter.  To  her  father 
the  mysterious  gallant  is  quite  invisible,  but  he  is 
plainly  seen  by  the  lover,  whose  jealousy  is  thus  ex- 
cited to    the    hiohest  deo-ree ;    and  the  first  act  ends 


CiiAr.  XX.]  GUILLEN    DE    CAbTLu'h    CID.  357 

with  the  coiiilLsion  and  reproaches  which  such  a  state 
of  things  necessarily  brings  on,  and  with  the  persuasion 
of  the  father  that  the  lover  may  be  fit  for  a  madhouse, 
but  would  make  a  very  poor  husband  for  his  gentle 
daughter.  ^'^ 

The  most  important  of  the  plays  of  Guillen  de 
Castro  are  two  which  he  wrote  on  the  subject  of  Rod- 
rigo  the  Cid,  —  "Las  Mocedades  del  Cid,"  The  Youth, 
or  Youthful  x\d ventures,  of  the  Cid  ;  —  both  founded 
on  the  old  ballads  of  the  countrj^,  which,  as  we  know 
from  Santos,  as  well  as  in  other  ways,  continued  long- 
after  the  time  of  Castro  to  be  sung  in  the  streets.^* 
The  first  of  these  two  dramas  embraces  the  earlier 
portion  of  the  hero's  life.  It  opens  with  a  solemn 
scene  of  his  arming  as  a  knight,  and  with  the  insult 
immediately  afterwards  offered  to  his  aged  father  at 
the  royal  council-board ;  and  then  goes  on  with 
the  trial  of  the  spirit  and  *  courage  of  Rodrigo,  *  305 
and  the  death  of  the  proud  Count  Lozano,  who  had 
outraged  the  venerable  old  man  b}^  a  blow  on  the  cheek  ; 
—  all  according  to  the  traditions  in  the  old  chronicles. 

Now,  however,  comes  the  dramatic  part  of  the 
action,  wdiich  was  so  happily  invented  b}^  Guillen  de 
Castro.  Ximena,  the  daughter  of  Count  Lozano,  is 
represented  in  the  drama  as  already  attached  to  the 
young  knight ;  and  a  contest,  therefore,  arises  between 
her  sense  of  what  she  ow^es  to  the  memory  of  her  father 
and  wdiat  she  may  yield  to  her  own  affection ;  a  con- 

1*  This   coinedkc   de   santo    does   not  old  Spanish  drama,  offensive  to  Protes- 

appear   in   the   collection  of  Guillen's  tant  ears. 

plays;    but   my   copy   of  it    (Madrid,  ^*  "  El  Verdad  en  el  Potro,  y  el  Cid 

1729)  attributes  it  to  him,  and  .so  does  Resuscitado,"  of  Fr.  Santos,   (Madrid, 

the  Catalogue  of  Huerta ;  besides  which,  1686,  12mo,)  contains  (pp.   9,   10,   51, 

the  internal  evidence  from  its  ver.sifica-  106,   etc.)  ballads  on  the  Cid,   as   he 

tion  and  manner  is  strong  for  its  genu-  says  they  were  tlien  sung  in  the  streets 

ineness.       The  passages  in  which   the  by    the    blind    beggars.     The    same   or 

lady  .speaks  of  Christ  as  her  lover  and  similar  .statements    are    made    by   Sar- 

spouse  are,  like  all  such  passages  in  the  miento,  nearly  a  century  later.        ^3iS^ 


358  GUILLKX    IJE    CASTKO'S    CID.  [Peiuod  IL 

test  that  continues  througli  the  Mhole  of  the  phiy,  and 
constitutes  its  chief  interest.  She  comes,  indeed,  at 
once  to  the  kinu'.  full  of  a  passionate  tci'it^f,  that  struy:- 
gles  with  success,  for  a  moment,  against  the  dictates 
of  her  heart,  and  ehiims  the  punishment  of  her  lover 
according  to  the  ancient  hiws  of  the  reahn.  He  escapes, 
however,  in  consequence  of  the  prodigious  victories  he 
gains  over  the  Moors,  who,  at  the  moment  when  these 
events  occurred,  were  assaulting  the  citj'.  Subse- 
quentlv,  by  the  contrivance  of  false  news  of  the  Cid's 
death,  a  confession  of  her  love  is  extorted  from  her ; 
and  at  last  her  full  consent  to  marry  him  is  obtained, 
partly  by  Divine  intimations,  and  partly  by  the  natural 
progress  of  her  admiration  and  attachment  during  a 
series  of  exploits  achieved  in  her  honor  and  in  defence 
of  her  kiuii:  and  countrv. 

This  drama  of  Guillen  de  Castro  has  become  better 
known  throughout  Europe  than  any  other  of  his  works ; 
not  only  because  it  is  the  best  of  them  all,  but  because 
Corneille.  who  was  his  contemporary,  made  it  the  basis 
of  his  own  Ijrilliaut  tragedy  of  '"The  Cid  "  ;  which  did 
more  than  anv  other  single  drama  to  determine  for 
two  centuries  the  character  of  the  theatre  all  over  the 
continent  of  Europe.  But  though  Corneille  —  not  un- 
mindful of  the  angry  discussions  carried  on  about  the 
unities,  mider  tlie  influence  of  Cardinal  Richelieu  — 
has  made  alterations  in  the  action  of  his  play,  which 
are  fortunate  and  judicious,  still  he  has  relied,  for  its 
main  interest,  on  that  contest  between  the  duties  and 
the  affections  of  the  heroine  which  was  first  imagined 

by  Guillen  de  Castro. 
*  oOG        *  Nor  has  he  shown  in  this  exhiljition  more 

spirit  or  power  than  his   Spanish   predecessor. 
Indeed,    sometimes   he    has   ftiUen    into    considerable 


CnAi-.  XX.]  GUILLEX    DE    CAiSTRO'S    CID.  359 

errors,  which  are  wliolly  his  own.  By  compressing 
the  time  of  the  aetion  within  twenty-fovn^  hours,  in- 
stead of  suffering  it  to  extend  through  many  months, 
as  it  does  in  the  original,  he  is  guilty  of  the  absurdity 
of  overcoming  Ximena's  natural  feelings  in  relation  to 
the  person  who  had  killed  her  father,  while  her  father's 
dead  body  is  still  before  her  eyes.  By  changing  the 
scene  of  the  quarrel,  which  in  Guillen  occurs  in  pres- 
ence of  the  king,  he  has  made  it  less  grave  and  natural. 
By  a  mistake  in  chronology,  he  establishes  the  Spanish 
court  at  Seville  two  centuries  before  that  city  was 
wrested  from  the  Moors.  And  by  a  general  straitening 
of  the  action  within  the  conventional  limits  which  were 
then  beginning  to  bind  down  the  French  stage,  he 
has,  it  is  true,  avoided  the  extravagance  of  introducing,, 
as  Guillen  does,  so  incongruous  an  episode  out  of  the 
old  ballads  as  the  miracle  of  Saint  Lazarus ;  but  he  has 
hindered  the  free  and  easy  movement  of  the  incidents, 
and  diminished  their  o-eneral  effect. 

Guillen,  on  the  contrary,  by  taking  the  traditions  of 
his  country  just  as  he  found  them,  instantly  conciliated 
the  good-will  of  his  audience,  and  at  the  same  time 
imparted  the  freshness  of  the  old  ballad  spirit  to  his 
action,  and  gave  to  it  throughout  a  strong  national  air 
and  coloring.  Thus,  the  scene  in  the  royal  council, 
where  the  father  of  the  Cid  is  struck  by  the  haughty 
Count  Lozano,  several  of  the  scenes  between  the  Cid 
and  Ximena,  and  several  between  both  of  them  and 
the  king,  are  managed  Avith  great  dramatic  skill  and  a 
genuine  poetical  fervor. 

Tlie  following  passage,  where  the  Cid's  father  is 
waiting  for  him  in  the  evening  twilight  at  the  place 
appointed  for  their  meeting  after  the  duel,  is  as  char- 
acteristic, if  not  as  striking,  as  any  in  the  drama,  and  is 


3G()  GUILLEX    DE    CASTRO 's    LID.  [Peuu>i>  II. 

superior  to  the  corresponding  passage  in  the  French 
phiy,  which  occurs  in  the  fifth  and  sixth  scenes  of  the 
third  act. 

The  timid  owe  bleats  not  so  mournfully 
Its  shepherd  lost,  nor  cries  the  angry  lion 
■*  307  *  With  sucli  a  fierceness  for  its  stolen  young, 

As  I  for  Roderic.  —  My  son  !  my  son  ! 
Each  shade  I  pass,  amid  the  closing  night, 
Seems  still  to  wi^ar  thy  form  and  mock  my  arms  ! 
0,  why,  why  comes  he  not  ?     I  gave;  tlie  sign,  — 
I  marked  the  spot,  —  and  yet  he  is  not  here ! 
Has  he  neglected  ?     Can  he  disobey  ? 
It  may  not  be  !     A  thousand  terrors  seize  me. 
Perhaps  some  injury  or  accidt;nt 
Has  made  him  turn  aside  his  hastening  step ;  — 
Perhaps  he  may  be  slain,  or  hurt,  or  seized. 
The  very  thought  freezes  my  breaking  heart. 

0  holy  Heaven,  how  many  ways  for  fear 

Can  giief  find  out  !  — But  hark  !     What  do  I  hear  ? 
Is  it  his  footstep  .'     Can  it  be  ?    0,  no  ! 

1  am  not  worthy  such  a  happiness  ! 

'T  is  but  the  echo  of  my  grief  I' hear.  — 

But  hark  iigain  !     Methinks  there  comes  a  gallop 

On  the  flintj'  stones.     He  springs  from  off  his  steed  ! 

Is  there  such  happine.ss  vouchsafed  to  me  ? 

Is  it  my  son  ? 

The  Cid.  '  My  father  ? 

The  Fatlier.  May  I  truly 

Trust  myself,  my  child;'     O,  am  I,  am  I,  then, 
Once  more  within  thine  arms  !     Then  let  me  thus 
Compose  my.self,  that  I  may  honor  thee 
As  greatly  as  thou  hast  deserved.     F>ut  why 
Hast  thou  delayed  ?     And  yet,  since  thou  art  here, 
Why  should  I  weary  thee  with  (questioning?  — 
0,  bravely  ha.st  thou  borne  thyself,  my  son  ; 
Hast  bravely  .stood  the  proof ;  hast  vindicated  well 
Mine  ancient  name  and  strength  ;  and  well  hast  paid 
The  debt  of  life  which  thou  receivedst  from  me. 
Come  near  to  me,  my  son.     Touch  the  white  hairs 
Whose  honor  thou  hast  saved  from  infamy. 
And  ki.s.s,  in  love,  the  cheek  wlio.se  stain  thy  valor 
Hath  in  blood  washed  out.  —  My  sou  !  my  son  ! 
The  pride  within  my  so\il  is  humbled  now, 
And  bows  before  the  power  tliat  has  preserved 
From  sliame  the  race  .so  many  kings  have  owned 
And  Iioncircd.''' 

IS  Virtio.     No  la  ovi!Jiii-l:i  .su  prustor  porliJo,  Balo  <ni<'jo<;i,  ni  hramo  ofendiilo, 

Ni  el  leon  que  Mils  liijos  le  haii  <|uit!i(lo,  Couio  >o  por  Kodrigo.     Ay,  hgo  amado  ! 


CuAi>.  XX.]  (lUILLEN    I)E    CASTRO'S    CID.  oGl 

*  The  Second  Part,  wliich  gives  the  adventures  *  308 
of  the  siege  of  Zaniora,  the  assassination  of  King 
Sancho  beneath  its  walls,  and  the  defiance  and  duels 
that  were  the  consequence,  is  not  equal  in  merit  to  the 
First  Part.  Portions  of  it,  such  as  some  of  the  circum- 
stances attending  the  death  of  the  king,  are  quite  in- 
capable of  dramatic  representation,  so  gross  and  revolt- 
ing are  they ;  but  even  here,  as  well  as  in  the  more 
fortunate  passages,  Guillen  has  faithfully  followed  tlie 
popular  belief  concerning  the  heroic  age  he  represents, 
just  as  it  had  come  down  to  him,  and  has  thus  given 
to  his  scenes  a  life  and  reality  that  could  hardly  have 
been  given  by  anything  else. 

Indeed,  it  is  a  great  charm  of  this  drama,  that  the 
popular  traditions  everywhere  break  through  so  con- 
stantly, imparting  to  it  their  peculiar  tone  and  char- 
acter. Thus,  the  insult  offered  to  old  Laynez  in  the 
coiuicil ;  the  complaints  of  Ximena  to  the  king  on  the 
death  of  her  father,  and  the  conduct  of  the  Cid  to 
herself;  the  story  of  the  Leper ;  the  base  treason  of 
Bellido  Dolfos ;  the  reproaches  of  Queen  Urraca  from 
the  walls  of  the  beleaguered  city,  and  the  defiance  and 
duels  that  follow,^*^  —  all  are  taken  from  the  old  bal- 

Voy  abrazando  sombras  descompuesto  Te  puso  mi  deseo  ;  y  pues  veniste, 

i^iitre  la  oscura  noche  que  ha  cerrado.  No  he  de  cansarte  pregando  el  como. 

Dile  la  seiia,  y  senal<51e  el  puesto,  Bravamente  probaste  1  bien  lo  hicisto  ! 

Donde  acudiese,  en  sucediendo  el  caso  Bien  mis  pasados  brios  iuiitaste '. 

^  i  me  habra  sido  inobediente  en  esto  ?  Bien  me  pagaste  el  ser  que  me  debiste  ! 

Pero  no  puede  ser ;  mil  penas  pasol  Toca  las  blancas  canas  que  me  houi-aste, 

Aljtun  inconveniente  le  habri  hecho,  Llega  la  tierna  boea  4  la  mexilla 

Mudando  la  opinion,  torcer  el  paso  Donde  la  niancha  de  mi  honor  quitaste  ! 

Que  helada  sangre  me  rebienta  el  pecho'  Soberbia  el  alma  X  tu  valor  se  humilla, 

.>i  es  muerto,  herido,  d  preso ?     Ay,  Cielo  santo  I       ("omo  con.servador  de  la  nolileza, 

Y  quantas  eosas  de  pesar  sospecho !  Que  ha  honrado  tautos  Reyes  en  Castilla. 

Que  siento?  esa?  mas  nomeresco  tanto.  in„.„i„,i  ,  i  , /^- 1    i,  ■  n    .      t         tt 

SerA  que  eorresponden  a  mis  males  Mocedades  del  Cid,  Prnnera  Parte,  Jorn.  H. 

Los  ecos  de  mi  Toz  y  de  mi  llanto.  vj   rni  •     •              ,           ^     r  .i      i 

Pero  entre  aquellos  secos  pedregales  ^'^^^  lIlipeaclniH'nt  ot  tllf!  lioiior  ot 

Vuelvo  4  oir  el  galope  de  un  caballo.  the   whole   city   of   ZainoJ'a,    for  hiuillg 

De  el  se  apea  Rodrigo  I  hay  dichas  tales?  harbored  tile  murderer  of  Kins  Sancho, 

Sale  Roflrii;o.  lills  a  large  place,  in  the  "  Cronica  (Jen- 

Hyo?    Cid.  Padre?  eral,"  (Tarte  IV.,)  in  the  "Cronica  del 

D,ego.  Es  posible  que  me  hallo  (;i,l  "    ,„„i    i,j    ^jj,,    yi,|    ballads,    and    is. 

Entre  tus  brazos ?     Hijo,  aliento  tonio  ^\    i    m   t>  i      7     rr                          r             ,- 

Para  en  tus  alabanzas  empleallo.  calli^d  Af.  Kclo  dc  Zumora,  —  a  form   ot 

Como  tardaste  tanfo?  ]iues  de  plomo  challenge  preserved  in  this  play  of  (luil- 


oG2  LUIS    YELEZ    DE    GUEVARA.  [Pkiuod  II. 

lads;  often  in  their  very  words,  and  g'cnerally  in  their 
fresh  spirit  and  with  their  picture-like  details.  The 
effect  must  have  been  great  on  a  Castilian  audience, 
always  sensible  to  the  power  of  the  old  popular  po- 
etry, and  always  stirred  as  with  a  battle-cry  when  the 
achievements  of  their  earlier  national  heroes  were  re 

called  to  them.^' 
"^309         *  In  his  other   dramas  we  find  traces  of  the 

same  principles  and  the  same  habits  of  theat- 
rical composition  that  we  have  seen  in  those  already 
noticed.  The  "  Impertinent  Curiosity  "  is  taken  from 
the  tale  which  Cervantes  originally  printed  in  the  First 
Part  of  his  Don  Quixote.  The  ""  Count  Alarcos."  and 
the  •'  Count  d'  Irlos,"  are  founded  on  the  fine  old  bal- 
lads that  bear  these  names.  And  the  '•  Wonders  of 
Babvlon  "  is  a  reli2:ious  plav.  in  which  the  story  of  Su- 
sanna  and  the  Elders  fills  a  space  somewhat  too  large, 
and  in  which  King  Nebuchadnezzar  is  unhappily  intro- 
duced eatino'  o-mss,  like  the  beasts  of  the  field.^*  But 
everywhere  there  is  shown  a  desire  to  satisfj*  the  de- 
mands of  the  national  taste  ;  and  ever}^iere  it  is 
plain  that  Guillen  is  a  follower  of  Lope  de  Vega,  and 
is  distinguished  from  his  rivals  rather  by  the  sweetness 
of  his  versification  than  by  any  more  prominent  or 
original  attribute. 

Another  of  the  early  followers  of  Lope  de  Vega,  and 
one  recognized  as  such  at  the  time  by  Cervantes,  is 
Luis  Velez  de   Guevara.      He  was  born   at   Ecija  in 

len,  and  recognized  as  a  legal  fomi  so  indebted  to  him  largely,  as  we  shall  see 

far  back  as  the  Partida  Vll.,  Tit.  III.,  hereafter.     Lord  Holland's  Life  of  Guil- 

"  De  los  Kiej)tos."  len,  already  referred  to,  unit,  f).   152, 

J'  The  plays  of  Guillen  on  the  Cid  note,  is  interesting,  though  imperfect, 
have  often  been  reprinted,  though  hard-  ^^  "  Las  Maravillas  de  Babilonia  "  is 

ly  one  of  his  otlier  dranuus  has  been.  not  in  Guillen's  collected  dramas,  and 

Voltaire,   in  his  Preface  to  Conieille's  is  not  mentioned  by  Rodriguez  or  Fus- 

<  'id,  .says  Comeille  took  his  hints  from  ter.      But  it  is  in  a  volume  entitled 

Diamante.     But  the  reverse  is  the  case.  "  Flor  de  las  Mejores  Doce  Comedias," 

Diamanti- wrote  after  Corneille,  and  was  Madrid,  lGr.'2,  4to. 


<:'HAi'.  XX.]       LUIS  VELEZ  DE  GUEVARA.  363 

AiidaliLsia,  according  to  some  autlioritics  in  1570,  and 
according  to  others  in  1572  or  1574,  but  seems  to  have 
hved  ahnost  entirely  at  Madrid,  where  he  died  in 
1644,  leaving  the  Conde  de  Lemos  and  the  Duque  de 
Yeragnas,  a  descendant  of  Columbus,  for  his  executors, 
by  whose  care  he  Avas  buried  with  ceremonies  and 
honors  becoming  their  rank  rather  than  his  own. 
Twelve  years  before  his  death  he  is  said,  on  good 
authority,  to  have  already  w^ritten  four  hundred  pieces 
for  the  theatre  ;  and  as  neither  the  public  favor  nor 
that  of  the  court  seems  to  have  deserted  him  during 
the  rest  of  his  long  life,  we  ma}^  feel  assured  that  he 
was  one  of  the  most  successful  authors  of  his  time.^^ 

His  plays,  however,  were  never  collected  for  publi- 
cation, and  few  of  them  have  come  down  to  us. 
One  of  *  those  that  have  been  preserved  is  for-  *  310 
timatel}^  one  of  the  best,  if  we  are  to  judge  of 
its  relative  rank  by  the  sensation  it  produced  on  its 
first  appearance,  or  by  the  hold  it  has  since  maintained 
on  the  national  regard.  Its  subject  is  taken  from  a 
well-known  passage  in  the  history  of  Sancho  the 
Brave,  when,  in  1293,  the  city  of  Tarifa,  near  Gib- 
raltar, was  besieged  by  that  king's  rebellious  ])rother, 
Don  John,  at  the  head  of  a  Moorish  army,  and  de- 
fended by  Alonso  Perez,  chief  of  the  great  house  of 
the  Guzmans.  "  And,"  says  the  old  Chronicle,  "  right 
well  did  he  defend  it.  But  the  Infante  Don  John 
had  with  him  a  young  son  of  Alonso  Perez,  and  sent 
and  warned  him  that  he  must  either  surrender  that 
city,  or  else  he  w^ould  put  to  death  this  child  whom  he 
had  with  him.     And  Don  Alonso  Perez  answered,  that 

1^  Antonio,  Bib.  Nov.,  Tom.  II.  \).  made  out.  Guevara  will  be  noticed 
68,  and  Montalvan,  Para  Todos,  in  bi.s  again  a.s  tlie  author  of  the  "  Diablo  Co- 
catalogue  of  authors  who  wrote  for  the  juelo."  He  had  a  son  who  wrote  play.s, 
stage  when  (in  1632)  that  catalogue  was  full  of  cultismo,  and  who  died  in  1675. 


364  LUIS    VELEZ    DE    GUEVARA.  [Peuiod  II. 

lie  held  that  city  for  the  king,  and  that  he  could  not 
give  it  up  ;  but  that  as  for  the  death  of  his  child,  he 
would  give  him  a  dagger  wherewith  to  slay  him  ;  and 
so  saying,  he  cast  down  a  dagger  from  the  rampart  in 
defiance,  and  added,  that  it  would  be  better  he  should 
kill  this  son,  and  yet  five  others  if  he  had  them,  than 
that  he  should  himself  basely  yield  up  a  city  of  the 
kinii;,  his  lord,  for  which  he  had  done  homa2:e.  And 
the  Infante  Don  John,  in  great  fury,  caused  that  child 
to  be  put  to  death  before  him.  But  neither  with  all 
this  could  he  take  the  city."  -^ 

Other  accounts  add  to  this  atrocious  story,  that,  after 
casting  down  his  dagger,  Alonso  Perez,  smothering  his 
grief,. sat  down  to  his  noonday  meal  with  his  wife,  and 
that,  his  j^eople  on  the  walls  of  the  city  witnessing  the 
death  of  the  innocent  child,  and  bursting  forth  into 
cries  of  horror  and  indignation,  he  rushed  out,  but, 
having  heard  what  was  the  cause  of  the  disturbance, 
returned  quietly  again  to  the  table,  saying  only,  "  I 
thought,  from  their  outcry,  that  the  Moors  had  made 

their  way  into  the  city."  ^^ 
*  311  *  For  thus  sacrificing  his  other  duties  to  his 
loyalty,  in  a  way  so  well  fitted  to  excite  the 
imao-ination  of  the  ao-e  in  which  he  lived,  Guzman 
received  an  appropriate  addition  to  his  armorial  bear- 
ings, still  seen  in  the  escutcheon  of  his  family,  and  the 
surname  of  "El  Bueno,"  —  The  Good,  or  The  Faithful, 
—  a  title  rarely  forgotten  in  Spanish  history,  whenever 
he  is  mentioned. 

This  is   the  subject,  and,  in  fact,  the  substance,  of 

^  Cronica  de  D.   Sancho  el  Bravo,  "  Isabel  de  Soli's,"  describing  a  real  or 

Valladolid,  1554,  folio,  f.  76.  an  iuiii^nnarj'  ])icture   of  the  death  of 

^^  Quintana,  Vidas  de  Es])anoles  Ce-  the  young  Guzman,  gives  a  tender  turn 

lebres,  Tom.  I.,   Madrid,   1807,   12mo,  to  the  father's  conduct;  but  the  hard 

]>.  51,  and  the  coiTesponding  jiassage  in  old  chronicle  is  more  likely  to  tell  th& 

the  play.     Martinez  de  la  Kosa,  in  his  truth,  and  the  jday  follows  it. 


Chap.  XX.]  LUIS    VELEZ    DE    GUEVARA.  365 

Guevara's  j^lay,  ''■  Ma.s  pesa  el  Rey  que  la  Sangre,"  or 
King  before  Kin.  A  good  deal  of  skill,  however,  is 
shown  in  putting  it  into  a  dramatic  form.  Thus,  King 
Sancho,  at  the  opening,  is  represented  as  treating  his 
great  vassal,  Perez  de  Guzman,  with  harshness  and 
injustice,  in  order  that  the  fliithful  devotion  of  the 
vassal,  at  the  end  of  the  drama,  may  be  brought  out 
with  so  much  the  more  brilliant  effect.  And  again,  the 
scene  in  which  Guzman  goes  from  the  king  in  anger, 
but  with  perfect  submission  to  the  royal  authority  ;  the 
scene  between  the  father  and  the  son,  in  which  the}' 
mutually  sustain  each  other,  by  the  persuasions  of 
duty  and  honor,  to  submit  to  anj'thing  rather  than 
give  up  the  city ;  and  the  closing  scene,  in  which, 
after  the  siege  has  been  abandoned,  Guzman  offers 
the  dead  body  of  his  child  as  a  proof  of  his  fidelity 
and  obedience  to  an  unjust  sovereign,  —  are  worthj^ 
of  a  place  in  the  best  of  the  earlier  English  tragedies, 
and  not  unlike  some  passages  in  Greene  and  Webster. 
But  it  Avas  as  an  expression  of  boundless  loyalty  — 
that  great  virtue  of  the  heroic  times  of  Spain  —  that 
this  drama  won  universal  admiration,  and  so  l^ecame 
of  consequence,  not  only  in  the  history  of  the  national 
stage,  but  as  an  illustration  of  the  national  character. 
Regarded  in  each  of  these  points  of  view,  it  is  one  of 
the  most  striking  and  solemn  exhibitions  of  the  mod- 
ern theatre.^^ 

In  most  of  his  other  plays,  Guevara  deviated  less 
from  the  beaten  track  than  he  did  in  this  deep 
tragedy.     "The  *  Diana  of  the  Mountains,"  for    *312 
instance,  is  a  poetical  picture  of  the  loyalty, 

22  The  copy  I  u.se  of  tlii.s  play  w.as  Gongorism.      But    a    lofty    tone    runs 

printed   in    1745.     Like   most   of   the  through  it,  that  ahvay.s  found  an  echo 

other  puVilished  dramas  of  Guevara,  it  in  the  Spanish  character, 
has  a  geod  deal  of  bombast,  and  some 


366  LUIS    YELEZ    DE    GUEVARA.  [Period  II. 

dignity,  and  passionate  force  of  character  of  the  lower 
classes  of  the  Spanish  people,  set  forth  in  the  person 
of  a  bold  and  independent  peasant,  -svho  marries  the 
beauty  of  his  mountain  region,  but  has  the  misfortune 
immediately  afterwards  to  find  her  pursued  by  the 
love  of  a  man  of  rank,  from  whose  designs  she  is  res- 
cued by  the  frank  and  manly  appeal  of  her  husband  to 
Queen  Isabella,  the  royal  mistress  of  the  offender.^^ 
'•  The  Potter  of  Ocaiia,"  too,  which,  like  the  last,  is 
an  intriguing  drama,  is  quite  within  the  limits  of  its 
class;  —  and  so  is  ••  Empire  after  Death."  a  tragedy 
full  of  a  melancholy,  idyl-like  softness,  which  well  har- 
monizes with  the  fate  of  Inez  de  Castro,  on  whose  sad 
stor}^  it  is  founded. 

In  Guevara's  religious  dramas  we  have,  as  usual,  the 
disturbing  element  of  love  adventures,  mingled  with 
what  ought  to  be  most  spiritual  and  most  separate 
from  the  dross  of  human  passion.  Thus,  in  his  "  Three 
Divine  Prodigies,"  we  have  the  whole  history  of  Saint 
Paul,  who  yet  first  appears  on  the  stage  as  a  lover  of 
Mar}'  Magdalen  ;  and  in  his  ''Satan's  Court"  we  have 
a  similar  history  of  Jonah,  who  is  announced  as  a  son 
of  the  w  idow  of  Sarepta,  and  lives  at  the  court  of  Nin- 
eveh, during  the  reign  of  Ninus  and  Semiramis,  in  the 
midst  of  atrocities  which  it  seems  impossible  could  have 
been  hinted  at  before  any  respectable  audience  in 
Christendom. 

Once,  indeed,  Guevara  stepped  beyond  the  wdde 
privileges  granted  to  the  Spanish  theatre  ;  but  his 
offence  was  not  against  the  rules  of  the  drama,  but 
against  the  authority  of  the  Inquisition.  In  '•  The 
Lawsuit  of  the   Devil  against  the  Curate  of  Madrile- 

^  The  "  Luna  "ie  la  Sierra"  is  the  first  play  in  the  "  Flor  de  las  Mejores  Doce 
Comedias,"  1652. 


€iiAP.  XX.]  MONTALVAN.  367 

jos/'  wlii(;li  lie  wrote  with  Roxas  and  Mira  de  Mesciia, 
he  gives  an  account  of  the  case  of  a  poor  mad  girl  who 
was  treated  as  a  witch,  and  escaped  death  only  by  con- 
fessing that  she  was  full  of  demons,  who  are  driven  out 
of  her  on  the  stage,  before  the  audience,  by  conjura- 
tions and  exorcisms.  The  story  has  ever\'  ap- 
pearance of  being  founded  in  fact,  and  is  *  cu-  *31o 
rious  on  account  of  the  strange  details  it  in- 
volves. But  the  whole  subject  of  witchcraft,  its  ex- 
hibition and  punishment,  belonged  exclusively  to  the 
Holy  Office.  The  drama  of  Guevara  was,  therefore, 
forbidden  to  be  represented  or  read,  and  soon  disap- 
peared quietly  from  public  notice.  Such  cases,  how- 
ever, are  rare  in  the  history  of  the  Spanish  theatre, 
at  any  period  of  its  existence.^* 

The  most  strict,  perhaps,  of  the  followers  of  Lope  de 
Vega  was  his  biographer  and  eulogist,  Juan  Perez  de 
Montalvan.  He  was  a  son  of  the  kino-'s  bookseller  at 
Madrid,  and  was  born  in  1602.^  At  the  age  of  seven- 
teen he  was  already  a  licentiate  in  theology  and  a  suc- 
cessful writer  for  the  public  stage,  and  at  eighteen  he 
contended  with  the  principal  poets  of  the  time  at  the 
festival  of  San  Isidro  at  Madrid,  and  gained,  with  Lope's 
assent,  one  of  the  prizes  that  were  there  offered.^*^ 
Soon  after  this,  he  took  the  degree  of  Doctor  in  Divin- 
ity, and,  like  his  friend  and  master,  joined  a  fraternity 
of  priests  in  Madrid,  and  received  an  office  in  the  In- 

-*  The  plays  last  mentioned  are  found  ^  Alvarez  y  Baena,  Hijos  de  Madiid, 

scattered    in    different     collections,  —  Tom.    III.    p.    157;  —  a  good   life  of 

"The  Devil's  Lawsuit"   being  in  the  Montalvan.     But  his  father  must,  be- 

volume  just  cited,   and    "The  Devil's  fore  Lope  de  Vega's  death,  have  become 

Court"  in  the  twenty-eighth  volume  of  a  priest,   for  he  was  Lo))e's  confessor, 

the  Comedias  Escogidas.     My  copy  of  Obras  de  Lope,  Tom.   XX.  ])]).  16  and 

the  "Tres   Portentos"   is   a   pamphlet  41.     Such   changes   were   not   unconi- 

without  date.     Fifteen  of  the  plays  of  mon. 

(ruevara  are  in  the  collection  of  Come-  28  Lope  de  Vega,  Obras  Sueltas,  Tom. 

ilias  Escogidas,  to  be  noticed  hereafter,  XL  pp.  501,  537,  etc.,  and  Tom.  XII. 

and  it  is  supposed  many  more  can  be  p.  424. 
collected. 


368  MONTALVAX.  [rKi:ion  11. 

qiiisition.  In  1626,  a  princely  merchant  of  Peru,  with 
whom  he  was  in  no  way  connected,  and  who  had  never 
even  seen  him,  sent  him,  from  the  opposite  side  of  the 
world,  a  pension  as  his  private  chaplain  to  pray  for  him 
in  Madrid  ;  all  out  of  admiration  for  his  genius  and 
writino's.-' 

In  1627,  he  published  a  small  work  on  -  The  Life 
and  Purgator}^  of  Saint  Patrick  "  ;  a  subject  popular 
in  his  Church,  and  on  wliich  he  now  wrote,  probably, 
to  satisfv  the  demands  of  his  ecclesiastical  position. 
But  his  nature  breaks  forth,  as  it  were,  in  spite  of 
himself,  and  he  has  added  to  the  common 
*  314  *  legends  of  Saint  Patrick  a  wild  tale,  almost 
■wholly  of  his  own  invention,  and  yet  so  inter- 
woven with  his  principal  subject  as  to  seem  to  be  a 
part  of  it,  and  even  to  make  equal  claims  on  the  faitli 
of  the  reader.-® 

In  1632,  he  says  he  had  composed  thirty-six  dramas 
and  twelve  sacramental  aidos ;  ^  and  in  1636,  soon 
after  Lope's  death,  he  published  the  extravagant  pane- 
gyric on  him  which  has  been  already  noticed.  This 
was  probably  the  last  work  he  gave  to  the  press  ;  for, 
not  long  after  it  appeared,  he  became  hopelessly  de- 
ranged, from  the  excess  of  his  labors,  and  died  on  the 
2oth  of  June,  1638,  when  only  thirty-six  years  old. 
One  of  his  friends  showed  the  same  pious  care  for  his 
memory  which  he  had  shown  for  that  of  his  master; 
and,  gathering  together  short  poems  and  other  eulo- 
gies on  him  by  above  a  hundred  and  fifty  of  the  known 
and  unknown    authors    of   his   time,  published    them 

^  Para  ToJos,  Alcala,   1661,   4to,   p.  pared  in  1632,)  where  he  speaks  also  of 

428.  a  picaresque  novrla,  "  Vida  i\c  Malha- 

28  It  went  through  several  editions  jas,"  and  other  works,  as  ready  for  tlie 
iis  a  book  of  devotion,  —  the  last  I  have  press  .  out  tliey  have  never  been  print- 
seen  being  of  1739,  18mo.  See  2^('S^t  td.  The  number  of  dramatic  works  of 
Chap.  XXII.,  note.  all  kinds  attributed   to  him  is  aljout 

29  Para  Todos,   1661,    p.   529,    (pre-  sixty. 


€hap.  XX.  1  MONTAT.VAT^.  30 9 

under  the  title  of  "  Panegyrical  Tears  on  the  Death 
of  Doctor  Juan  Perez  de  Montalvan  "  ;  —  a  ])ooi- col- 
lection, in  whicii,  tlioiigh  we  meet  the  names  of  An- 
tonio de  Soils,  Gaspar  de  Avila,  Tirso  de  Molina,  Cal- 
deron,  and  others  of  note,  Ave  find  very  few  lines  worthy 
either  of  their  authors  or  of  their  subject.'^'* 

Montalvan's  life  was  short,  but  it  Avas  brilliant.  lie 
early  attached  himself  to  Lope  de  Vega  with  sincere 
affection,  and  continued  to  the  last  the  most  devoted 
of  his  admirers ;  deserving  in  many  ways  the  title 
given  him  by  Valdivielso,  —  '^'  the  firstrborn  of  Lope  de 
Vega's  genius."  Lope,  on  his  side,  was  sensible  to  the 
homage  thus  frankly  offered  him ;  and  not  only  assisted 
and  encouraged  his  youthful  follower,  but  received  him 
almost  as  a  member  of  his  household  and  flxmily.  It 
has  even  been  said,  that  the  "  Orfeo  "  —  a  poem 
on  the  subject  of  Orpheus  *  and  Eurydice,  which  *  315 
Montalvan  published  in  August,  1624,  in  rival- 
ship  with  one  under  the  same  title  published  by  Jaure- 
gui  in  the  June  preceding  —  Avas  in  fact  the  work  of 
Lope  himself,  who  was  willing  thus  to  give  his  disciple 
an  advantage  over  a  formidable  competitor.  But  this 
is  probably  only  the  scandal  of  the  next  succeeding 
generation.  The  poem  itself,  which  fills  about  two 
hundred  and  thirty  octave  stanzas,  though  as  easy  and 
spirited  as  if  it  were  from  Lope's  hand,  bears  the  marks 
rather  of  a  young  Avriter  than  of  an  old  one  ;  besides 
which,  the  verses  prefixed  to  it  by  Lope,  and  especially, 
his  extravagant  praise  of  it  Avhen  afterwards  speaking 
of  his  own  drama  on  the  same  subject,  render  the  sug- 
gestion that  he  wrote  the  w^ork  too  great  an  iniputa- 

^  "  Lagrimas  Panegiiioas  a  la  Tern-  poet  of  note  wliom  I  miss.     From  the 

prana  Miieite  del  Gran  Poeta,  etc.,  J.  "Decimas"  of  Calderon   in    this  vol- 

Perez  de  Montalvan,"  por  Pedro  Grande  nme,   (f.   12,)   I   infer  that  Montalvan 

de  Tena,    Madrid,    1639,    4to,   fi".    164.  had  two  attacks  of  paralysis,  and  died 

Quevedo,  Montalvan's  foe,  is  tlie  only  a  very  gentle  death. 
VOL.  II.                             24 


370  MONTALVAX.  [Tkiuou  IL 

tion  on  his  cliamcter;^'  But  however  this  may  be, 
Montalvan  and  Lope  were,  as  we  know  ironi  different 
passages  in  their  works,  eonstantl}'  together  ;  and  the 
faithful  admiration  of  tlie  disei])le  was  Avell  returned 
b}-  the  kindness  and  patronage  of  the  master. 

Montalvan's  chief  success  was  on  the  stau^e,  where 
his  popidarity  was  so  considerable,  that  the  booksellers 
found  it  for  their  interest  to  print  under  his  name  man\' 
plays  that  were  none  of  his.^^  He  himself  prepared 
for  publication  two  complete  volumes  of  his  dramatic 
works,  which  appeared  in  1638  and  1G39,  and  were 
reprinted  in  1652 ;  but  besides  this,  he  had  earlier  in- 
serted several  plays  in  one  of  his  works  of  fiction,  and 
printed  many  more  in  other  ways,  making  in  all  above 
sixty ;  the  whole  of  which  seem  to  have  been  pub- 
lished, as  far  as  they  were  published  by  himself,  during 

the  last  seven  years  of  his  life.^ 
*  31G        *If  we  take  the  first  volume  of  his  collection, 

which  is  more  likely  to  have  received  his  care- 
ful revision  than  the  last,  since  all  the  certificates  are 
dated  1635,  and  examine  it,  as  an  illustration  of  his 
theories  and  style,  we  shall  easily  miderstand  the  char- 
acter of  his  drama.  Six  of  the  plaj's  contained  in  it, 
or  one  half  of  the  whole  number,  are  of  the  class  of 
ciqm  y  espada,  and  rely  for  their  interest  on  some  exhi- 
bition of  jealousy,  or  some  intrigue  involving  the  point 

^  "Orfcocn  T.engiiaCastellaua,"  por  ^  Tlie  date   of  the   first  volume   is 

^.  P.  de  Montalvan,  Madrid,  1624,  4to.  1639  on  the  title-page,  hut  1638  at  the 

N.  Ant.,    Bib.  Xov.,  Tom.   1.  p.  757,  end.     A  MS.  of  one  of  his  plavs,  "La 

and    Lope   de  Vega,    Comedias,    Tom.  Deshonra    Honrosa,"   in  the  £)uke   of 

XX.,  Madrid,  1G29,  in  the  Preface  to  Ossuna's  Librarj',  is  dated  1622,  when 

which  he  .says  the  Orfeo  of  Montalvan  Montalvan  of  course  was  only  twenty 

"contains  whatever  can  contribute  to  years  old.      Schack,   Nachtriige,   1854, 

its  jierfection."  p.  61.     He  says  himself,  in  the  dedica- 

32  His  complaints  are  as  loud  as  Lope's  tion  of  "Cumplir  con  su  «Jbligacion," 

or  Calderon's,  and  are  to  be  found  in  that  it  was  the  second   i)lay   that  he 

the  Preface  to  the  first  volume  of  his  wrote.     In  a  similar  way  he  pronounces 

jilays,    Ahalti,    1638,    4to,   and   in   his  his  "  Doncella   de    Labor"    to    be  his 

"ParuTodos,"  1661,  ]..  169.  best. 


CiiAP.  XX.]  MONTALYAX.  371 

of  honor.  They  are  generally,  like  the  one  entitled 
'•  Fulfilment  of  Duty,"  unskilfully  put  together,  though 
never  uninteresting ;  and  they  all  contain  passages  of 
poetical  feeling,  injured  in  their  effect  by  other  pas- 
sages, in  which  taste  seems  to  be  set  at  defiance,  — 
a  remark  particularly  applicable  to  the  play  called 
"What  's  done  can't  be  helped."  Four  of  the  remain- 
ing six  are  historical.  One  of  them  is  on  the  suppres- 
sion of  the  Templars,  which  Raynouard,  referring  to 
Montalvan,  took  as  a  subject  for  one  of  the  few  suc- 
cessful French  traoredies  of  the  first  half  of  the  nine- 
teenth  century.  Another  is  on  Sejanus,  not  as  he  is 
represented  in  Tacitus,  but  as  he  appears  in  the  '•  Gen- 
eral Chronicle  of  Spain."  And  yet  another  is  on  Don 
John  of  Austria,  which  has  no  denouement,  except  a 
sketch  of  Don  John's  life  given  by  himself,  and  making 
out  above  three  hundred  lines.  A  single  play  of  the 
twelve  is  an  extravagant  specimen  of  the  dramas  writ- 
ten to  satisfy  the  requisitions  of  the  Church,  and  is 
founded  on  the  legends  relating  to  San  Pedro  de  Al- 
cantara.^ 

The  last  drama  in  the  volume,  and  the  only  one  that 
has  enjoyed  a  permanent  popularity  and  been  acted 
and  printed  ever  since  it  first  appeared,  is  the  one 
called  "  The  Lovers  of  Teruel."  It  is  founded  on 
a  tradition,  that,  early  in  the  thirteenth  century,  in 
the  city  of  Teruel,  in  Aragon,  —  half-way  between 
Saragossa  and  Valencia,  —  there  lived  two  lovers, 
whose  union  was  prevented  by  the  lady's  family, 
on  the  ground  that  tiie  fortune  of  the  cavalier  was 
not  so   considerable  as  they  ought  to   claim  for  her. 

^  It  slioukl  perhaps  be  added,  that  contest  with  the   lion  to   the   pulling 

another  religious  play   of  ilontalvan,  down  of  the  Philistine  temple,  is  less 

"  El  Di%ano    Xazareno   Sanson,"   con-  offensive, 
taining  the  historv  of  Samson  from  the 


372  MOXTALYAX.  [rj;Riou  II. 

*  317  They,  however,  gave  him  a  *  certain  number  of 
years  to  achieve  the  position  they  required  of 
any  one  who  aspired  to  lier  hand.  He  accepted  the 
ofter,  and  became  a  soldier.  His  exploits  were  bril- 
liant, but  were  long  unnoticed.  At  last  he  succeeded, 
and  came  home  in  1217,  with  fame  and  fortune.  But 
he  arrived  too  late.  The  lady  had  been  reluctantly 
married  to  his  rival,  the  very  night  he  reached  Teruel. 
Desperate  with  grief  and  disappointment,  he  followed 
her  to  the  bridal  chamber  and  fell  dead  at  her  feet. 
The  next  day  the  lady  was  found,  apparently  asleep, 
on  his  bier  in  the  church,  when  the  officiating  priests 
came  to  perform  the  funeral  service.  Both  had  died 
broken-hearted,  and  both  were  buried  in  the  same 
grave  .*^ 

A  considerable  excitement  in  relation  to  this  story 
having  arisen  in  the  youth  of  Montalvan.  he  seized  the 
tradition  on  which  it  was  founded,  and  wrought  it  into 
a  drama.  His  lovers  are  placed  in  the  time  of  Charles 
the  Fifth,  in  order  to  connect  them  with  that  stirrino- 
period  of  Spanish  history.  The  first  act  begins  with 
several  scenes,  in  which  the  difficulties  and  dangers  of 
their  situation  are  made  apparent,  and  Isabella,  the 
heroine,   expresses  an    attachment   which,  after  some 

^  I  shall  have  occasion  to  recur  to  toiy  discussions  of  his  life  and  works, 

this  subject  when  I  notice  a  long  poem  There  can  be  no  doubt,  from  a  com- 

published  on  it  by  Yague  de  Salas,  in  paiison  of  the  "  Amantes  dc  Teruel" 

161t).      The  story  used  by  Montalvan  of  Tirso  with  that  of  Montalvan,  jtrinted 

is  founded  on  a  tradition  already  em-  three  years  later,  that  ilontalvan  was 

ployed  for  the  stage,  but  with  an  awk-  largely  indebted  to  his  jiredecessor ;  but 

ward  and  somewhat  coarse  plot,  and  a  he  has  added  to  his  drama  much  that 

poor   versification    by   Andres    Key  de  is  beautiful,   and  given  to  parts  of  it 

Artieda,  in  his  "Amantes,"  published  a  tone  of  domestic  tenderness  that,   I 

in  1581,  and  by  Tirso  de  Molina,  in  Ids  doubt  not,  he  drew  from  his  own  na- 

" Amantes   de   Teruel,"    16'S5.      These  ture.      Aribau,   Biblioteca   de   Autores 

two  [days,  however,  had  long  lieen  for-  Espanoles,  Tom.  V.  pp.  xx.xvii  and  690. 

gotten,  when  an  abstract  of  the  fir.st.  The  story  of  the  Lovers  of  Teniel  is 

and  the  whole  of  the  second,  apjieared  found  also  in  Canto  IX.  of  the  poetical 

in  the  fifth  volume  of  Aribau's  "  Bibli-  Romance  of  Florando  de  Castilla,  158S, 

oteca"  (Madrid,  1848)  ;  a  volume  which  by  Hieronymo   de   Huerta.     See  2^st, 

contains  thirty-.si.x  well-selected  plays  Chap.  XXVII.,  note, 
of  Tirso  de  Molina,  with  valuable  i)refa- 


Chap.  XX.]  MONTALVAX.  373 

anxiety  and  misgiving,  becomes  a  passion  so  devoted 
that  it  seems  of  itself  to  intimate  their  coming  sorrows. 
Iler  father,  however,  when  he  learns  the  truth,  con- 
sents to  their  miion ;  but  on  condition  that,  within 
three  A^ears,  the  young  man  shall  place  himself  in  a 
position  worthy  the  claims  of  such  a  bride. 
Both  of  the  lovers  willingly  *  submit,  and  the  *  318 
act  ends  with  hopes  for  their  happiness. 

Nearly  the  whole  of  the  limited  period  elapses  be- 
fore we  begin  the  second  act,  where  we  find  the  hero 
just  landing  in  Africa  for  the  Avell-known  assault  on 
the  Goleta  at  Tunis.  He  has  achieved  much,  but  re- 
mains unnoticed  and  almost  broken-hearted  with  long 
discouragement.  At  this  moment,  he  saves  the  Em- 
peror's life ;  but  the  next,  he  is  forgotten  again  in  the 
rushing  crowd.  Still  he  perseveres,  sternly  and  hero- 
ically ;  and,  led  on  by  a  jDassion  stronger  than  death, 
is  the  first  to  mount  the  walls  of  Tunis  and  enter  the 
city.  This  time,  his  merit  is  recognized.  Even  his 
forgotten  achievements  are  recollected;  and  he  re- 
ceives at  once  the  accumulated  reward  of  all  his  ser- 
vices and  sacrifices. 

But  when  the  last  act  opens,  we  see  that  he  is  des- 
tined to  a  fatal  disappointment.  Isabella,  who  has 
been  artfully  persuaded  of  his  death,  is  preparing,  with 
sinister  forebodings,  to  fulfil  her  promise  to  her  father 
and  marry  another.  The  ceremony  takes  place,  —  the 
guests  are  about  to  depart,  —  and  her  lover  stands  be- 
fore her.  A  heart-rending  explanation  ensues,  and  she 
leaves  him,  as  she  thinks,  for  the  last  time.  But  he 
follows  her  to  her  apartment ;  and  in  the  agony  of  his 
grief  falls  dead,  while  he  yet  expostulates  and  struggles 
with  himself  no  less  than  with  her.  A  moment  after- 
wards her  husband  enters.     She  explains  to  him  the 


374  MOXTALYAX.  [Period  1 1. 

scene  he  witnesses,  and,  unable  any  longer  to  sustain 
the  cruel  conflict,  faints  and  dies  broken-hearted  on  the 
body  of  her  lover. 

Like  nearly  all  the  other  pieces  of  the  same  class, 
there  is  much  in  the  '•  Lovers  of  Teruel "  to  offend  us. 
The  inevitable  part  of  the  comic  servant  is  peculiarly 
unwelcome  ;  and  so  are  the  long  speeches,  and  the 
occasionally  inflated  style.  But  notwithstanding  its 
blemishes,  we  feel  that  it  is  written  in  the  true  spirit 
of  traged3^  As  the  story  was  believed  to  be  authentic 
when  it  was  first  acted,  it  produced  the  deeper  eflect ; 
and  whether  true  or  not,  being  a  tale  of  the  simple  sor- 
rows of  two  young  and  loving  hearts,  whose  dark  fate 
•  is  the  result  of  no  crime  on  their  part,  it  can 
*  319  never  be  read  or  acted  *  without  exciting  a  sin- 
cere interest.  Parts  of  it  have  a  more  fomiliar 
and  domestic  character  than  we  are  accustomed  to  find 
on  the  Spanish  stage,  pai'ticularly  the  scene  where 
Isabella  sits  with  her  women  at  her  wearisome  em- 
broiderv,  durins;  her  lover's  absence ;  the  scene  of  her 
discouragement  and  misgiving  just  before  her  mar- 
riage ;  and  portions  of  the  scene  of  horror  with  which 
the  drama  closes. 

The  two  lovers  are  drawn  with  no  little  skill.  Our 
interest  in  them  never  falters ;  and  their  characters  are 
so  set  forth  Jind  developed,  that  the  dreadful  catas- 
trophe is  no  surprise.  It  comes  rather  like  the  fore- 
seen and  irresistible  fate  of  the  old  Greek  tragedy, 
whose  dark  shadow  is  cast  over  the  whole  action  from 
its  opening. 

When  Montalvan  took  historical  subjects,  he  endeav- 
ored, oftener  than  his  contemporaries,  to  observe  his- 
torical truth.  In  two  dramas  on  the  life  of  Don  Carlos, 
he    has    introduced    that   prince    substantially   in   the 


L'liA]-.  XX.  1  MONTALVAN.  375 

colors  lie  must  at  last  wear,  as  an  urigoverncd  inarl- 
man,  dangerous  to  his  family  and  to  the  state ;  and  if^ 
in  obedience  to  the  persuasions  of  his  time,  the  poet 
has  represented  Philip  the  Second  as  more  noble  and 
generous  than  we  can  regard  him  to  have  been,  he  has 
not  failed  to  seize  and  exhibit  in  a  striking  manner  the 
severe  wariness  and  wisdom  that  were  such  prominent 
attributes  in  that  monarch's  character.^''  Don  John  of 
Austria,  too,  and  Henry  the  Fourth  of  France,  are 
happily  depicted  and  fairly  sustained  in  the  plays  in 
which  they  respectively  appear  as  leading  person- 
ao;es.'^" 

*  Montalvan's  autos,  of  which  only  two  or  *  320 
.three  remain  to  us,  are  not  to  be  spoken  of  in 
the  same  manner.  His  ''  Polyphemus,"  for  instance,  in 
which  the  Saviour  and  a  Christian  Church  are  intro- 
duced on  one  side  of  the  stage,  while  the  principal 
Cyclops  himself  comes  in  as  an  allegorical  represen- 
tation of  Judaism  on  the  other,  is  as  wild  and  extrava- 
gant as  anything  in   the   Spanish  drama.     A  similar 

*•  "El  Principe  Don  Carlos"  i.s  the  lived  till  1655,  but,  though  he  is  said 
first  play  in  the  twenty-eighth  volume  to  have  completeil  his  history,  and  even 
of  the  Comedias  Escogidas,  1667,  and  to  have  once  sent  the  remainder  to 
gives  an  account  of  the  miraculous  cure  press,  no  more  than  the  First  Part, 
of  the  Prince  from  an  attack  of  insanity ;  coming  down  to  1583,  has  ever  been 
the  other,  entitled  "  El  Segu)ido  Seneca  published.  Ranke's  judgment  of  Ca- 
de Espana,"  is  the  first  play  in  his  brera  in  a  remarkable  paper  on  D. 
"  Para  Todo.s,"  and  ends  with  the  mar-  Carlos  (Jaiirb.  der  Lit.  Wien,  XLVI. 
riage  of  the  king  to  Anne  of  Austria,  1829)  is  very  wi.se  and  just, 
and  the  appointment  of  Don  John  as  ^  Don  John  is  in  the  play  that  bears 
generali.ssimo  of  the  League.  The  rep-  his  name.  Henry  IV.  is  in  "  El  Ma- 
resentation  of  characters  and  incidents  rescal  de  Biron,"  of  wliich  I  have  a 
in  these  plays  is  substantially  the  same  separate  copy  printed  in  12nio,  at  Bar- 
that  is  found  in  Luis  Cabrera  de  Cor-  celoua,  in  1635,  pieceded  by  tlie  "  His- 
doba's  very  courtly  "Felipe  Segundo,  toria  Tragica  de  la  Vida  del  Du(pie  de 
Rev  de  Espana,"  which,  as  it  was  pub-  Biron,"  by  Juan  I'ablo  Martyr  Rizo,  — 
lished  in  1619,  probably  furnished  his  on  which  the  play  was  to  a  con.siderabie 
materials  to  Montalvan,  who  was  not  degree  founded,  although  the  extrava- 
prone  to  wander  far  for  them.  See  gant  character  of  Doiia  Blanca  ha.s  no 
Libro  V.  c.  5;  VIL  22;  and  VIIL  5.  warrant  in  history.  The  life  by  Rizo 
The  work  of  Cabrera  is  not  very  well  is  an  int(!resting  piece  of  contcMiporary 
written,  though  important  to  the  his-  biography,  published  originally  in  1629, 
torj'  of  the  time,  because  he  had  access  seven  years  aft<M-  th<'  Marshal  was  exe- 
to  excellent  sources  of  information.     He  cuted. 


376  MOXTALVAX.  [Period  II. 

remark  may  be  made  on  the  "  Escanderljecli,"  founded 
on  the  history  of  the  half-barbarous,  half-chivah'ous 
Lskander  Beg,  and  his  conversion  to  Christianity  in  the 
middle  of  the  fifteenth  century.  We  find  it.  in  fact, 
difficult,  at  the  present  day,  to  believe  that  pieces  like 
the  first  of  these,  in  which  Polyphemus  plays  on  a 
guitar,  and  an  island  in  the  earliest  ages  of  Greek 
tradition  sinks  into  the  sea  amidst  a  discharge  of 
squibs  and  rockets,  can  have  been  represented  any- 
"vvhere.^ 

But  Montalvan  followed  Lope  in  everything,  and, 
like  the  rest  of  the  dramatic  writers  of  his  age,  was 
safe  from  such  censure  as  he  would  now  receive,  be- 
cause he  wrote  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  the  popular 
audiences  of  Madrid.^  He  made  the  novela,  or  tale, 
the  chief  basis  of  interest  for  his  drama,  and  relied 
mainly  on  the  passion  of  jealousy  to  give  it  life  and 
movement.*^  Bowing  to  the  authority  of  the  court, 
he  avoided,  we  are  told,  representing  rebellion  on  the 
stage,  lest  he  should  seem  to  encourage  it ;  and  was 
even  unwilling  to  introduce  men  of  rank  in  degrading 
situations,  for  fear  disloyalty  should  l)e  implied  or  im- 
puted. He  would  gladly,  it  is  added,  have  re- 
*  321  strained  his  action  to  twenty-four  *  hours,  and 
limited  each  of  the  three  divisions  of  his  full- 
length  dramas  to  three  hundred  lines,  never  leaving 
the  stage  empty  in  either  of  them.  But  such  rules 
were  not  prescribed  to  him  by  the  popular  will,  and 
he  wrote  too  freely  and  too  fast  to  be  more  anxious 

'^  Roth  of  them  :ire  in  tlie  fifth  day's  tlie  play,  entitled  "  De  \n\  Castigo  dos 

enteitaunnents  of  the  "  Paia  Todos."  Venganzas,"    a    play   full    of    honors, 

^'  Preface  to  "  Para  Todos."  Montalvan  declares"  the  plot  to  be, — 
*^  The    story    of    "El    Zeloso     Estre-  Itistorin  tan  vcnladfra, 

ineno"  is  altered  fioni  that  of  the  same  Que  ""  ha  ciueucnta  semanas 

name  by  Cervantes,  but  is  indebted  to  *^"''  »"<*<^'°- 

it  lai-gely,  and  takes  the  names  of  sev-  Many  of  his  plays  are  founded  on  ex- 

eral  of  its  personages.      At  the  end  of  citing  and  interesting  but  familiar  tales. 


CiiAP.  XX. J  MONTALVAN.  377 

about    observing    his    own    theories    tlian    his    master 

41 

was. 

His  ''Most  Constant  AVife,"  one  of  his  plays  whicli  is 
particularly  pleasing,  from  the  firm,  yet  tender,  char- 
acter of  the  heroine,  was  written,  he  tells  us,  in 
four  weeks,  prepared  by  the  actors  in  eight  days,  and 
represented  again  and  again,  until  the  great  relig- 
ious festival  of  the  spring  closed  the  theiitres.^^  His 
'•  Double  Vengeance,"  with  all  its  honors,  was  acted 
twenty-one  days  successively.*'^  His  "  No  Life  like 
Honor"  —  one  of  his  more  sober  efforts — a])peared 
many  times  on  both  the  principal  theatres  of  Madrid  at 
the  same  moment ;  —  a  distinction  to  which,  it  is  said, 
no  other  play  had  then  arrived  in  Spain,  and  in  which 
none  succeeded  it  till  long  afterwards.^  And,  in  gen- 
eral, during  the  period  when  his  dramas  were  pro- 
duced, which  was  the  old  age  of  Lope  de  Vega,  no 
author  was  heard  on  the  stage  with  more  pleasure  than 
Montalvan,  except  his  great  master. 

He  had,  indeed,  his  trials  and  troubles,  as  all  have 
whose  success  depends  on  popular  favor.  Quevedo, 
the  most  unsparing  satirist  of  his  time,  attacked  the 
less-  fortunate  parts  of  one  of  his  works  of  fiction  with 
a  spirit  and  bitterness  all  his  own  ;  and,  on  another 
occasion,  when  one  of  Montalvan's  plays  had  been 
hissed,  wrote  him  a  letter  which  professed  to  be  (con- 
solatory, but  which  is  really  as  little  so  as  can  well 
be  imagined.*^     But,  notwithstanding  such  occasional 

*i  Pellicer  <\e  Tobar,  in  the  "  Lagri-  unbecoming  and  hard.     All  this,  how- 
mas,"  etc.,  ut  supra,  gives  this  account  ever,  is  oidy  the  system  of  Lo])e,  in  his 
of  his  friend  Montalvan's  literary  theo-  "Arte  Nuevo,"  a  little  amplified, 
ries,    pp.     146-1.52.      He    .says    that  '•^  Para  Todos,  1661,  p.  .508. 
Montalvan,  in  the  more  grave  parts  of  ^'^  Ibid.,  p.  158. 

Ids  plays,  employed  ociavas,  canckme^,  **  C.  Pellieer,  On'geii,  Tom.  I.  p.  202. 

And silvas ;  in  the  tender  parts,  rfec('»K<.«,  ^^  Quevculo,  Obras,  Tom.  XL,   1794,. 

(flosns,  and  other  similar  forms  ;   and  pp.   125,   163.      An    indignant  answer 

roraances    everywhere  ;     but    that    he  was  made  to  Quevedo,  in  the  "Tribu- 

avoided   dactyles  and  blank   verse,  as  nal  de  la  Justa  Veugaiiza,"  already  no- 


378  MOXTALVAX.  [rKUioD  II. 

*  322    discouragements,  *  his  course  was.  on  the  M'hole, 
fortunate,    and    he    is  still   to    be   remembered 
amons  the  ornaments  of  the  old  national  drama  of  his 
country. 

tioed.      Tlie  letter  attributed   here  to  have  noticed,  was  a  bookseller  in  Ma- 

Quevedo  is  printed  in  the  Don  Diego  drid,  reprinted  there,  without  Queve- 

<ie  Noche  (1623,  f.  30)  as  if  it  were  the  do's  pemiission,  his  "  Politica  de  Dies," 

work  of  Salas  Barbadillo  ;  but  it  must  as  soon  as  it  had  appeared  at  Saragossa 

be  Quevedo's.      The  feud  was  an  old  in  1626,  and  Quevedo  was  very  angry 

one.     Montalvan's  father,  who,  as  we  about  it. 


*  CHAPTER  XXI.         *323 

DRAMA,  CONTIXUED. TIRSO  DE  MOLIXA. MIRA  DE  MESCUA. VALDIVIELSO. 

ANTONIO  DE  MENDOZA. RUIZ  DE  ALARCON. LUIS  DE  BELMONTE,  AND 

OTHERS. EL  DIABLO  PREDICADOR. OPPOSITION  OF  LEARNED  MEN  AND 

OF  THE  CHURCH  TO  THE  POPULAR  DRAMA. A  LONG  STRUGGLE. TRI- 
UMPH OF  THE  DRAMA. 

Another  of  the  persons  avIio,  fit  this  time,  sought 
popular  favor  on  the  pubhc  stage  was  Gabriel  Tellez, 
an  ecclesiastic  of  rank,  better  known  as  Tirso  cle  Mo- 
lina, —  the  name  under  which  he  slightly  disguised 
himself  when  publishing  works  of  a  secular  character. 
Of  his  life  we  know  little,  except  that  he  was  born  in 
Madrid ;  that  he  was  educated  at  Alcala ;  that  he 
entered  the  Church  as  early  as  1613  ;  and  that  he 
died  in  the  convent  of  Soria,  of  which  he  was  the  head, 
probably  in  Februar}^,  1648 ;  —  some  accounts  repre- 
senting him  to  have  been  sixtj-  years  old  at  the  time 
of  his  death,  and  some  seventy-eight  or  even  eighty.^ 

In  other  respects  we  know  more  of  him.  As  a  writ^ 
er  for  the  theatre,  we  have  five  volumes  of  his  dramas, 
published  between  1627  and  1636  ;  besides  which,  a 
considerable  number  of  his  plays  can  be  found  scatr 
tered  through  his  other  works,  or  printed  each  by 
itself.  His  talent  seems  to  have  been  decidedly  dra- 
matic and  satirical ;  but  the  moral  tone  of  his  plots  is 
lower  than  common,  and  many  of  his  plays  contain 
passages  whose  indecency  has  caused  them  to  be  so 
hunted  down  by  the  confessional  and  the  Inquisition, 

1   Deleytar   Aprovechaiido,    Madrid,      y  Baena,  Hijos  de  Madrid,  Tom.  II.  p. 
1765,   2  torn.,   4to,   Prologo.     Alvarez      267. 


380  TIRSO    DE    MOLIXA.  [1'kiuod  II. 

that  copies  of  them  are  among  tlie  rarest  of 
*  324  Spanish  Ijooks.^  Not  a  *  few  of  the  less  offen- 
sive, however,  have  maintained  their  place  on 
the  stage,  and  are  still  familiar,  as  popular  favorites. 

Of  these,  the  best  known  ont  of  Spain  is  "  El  Burla- 
dor  de  Se villa,"  or  The  Seville  Deceiver,  —  the  earliest 
distinct  exhibition  of  that  Don  Juan  who  is  now  seen 
on  every  stage  in  Europe,  and  known  to  the  lowest 
classes  of  Germany,  Italy,  and  Spain,  in  puppet-shows 
and  street-ballads.  The  first  rudiments  for  this  char- 
acter —  which,  it  is  said,  may  be  traced  historically  to 
the  great  Tenorio  family  of  Seville  —  had,  indeed,  been 
brought  upon  the  stage  by  Lope  de  ^'ega,  in  the  sec- 
ond and  third  acts  of"  Money  makes  the  Man"  ;  where 
the  hero  shows  a  similar  firmness  and  wit  amidst  the 
most  awful  visitations  of  the  unseen  world.^  But  in 
the  character  as  sketched  by  Lope  there  is  nothing 
revolting.  Tirso,  therefore,  is  the  first  who  showed  it 
with  all  its  original  undaunted  courage  united  to  an 
unmingled  depravity  that  asks  only  for  selfish  gratifi- 
cations, and  a  cold,  relentless  humor  that  continues  to 
jest  when  surrounded  by  the  terrors  of  a  supernatural 
retribution. 

This  conception  of  the  character  is  picturesque,  not- 

-  Of  these  five  volumes,  containing  ^  There  are  some  details  in  this  part 

fifty-nine  plays,  and  a  number  of  en-  of  Lojie's  play,  such  as  the  mention  of 

treiue-sci  and  ballads,  whose  titles  are  a  walking  stone  statue,  which  leave  no 

given  in  Aribau's  Biblioteca,  (Madrid,  doubt  in  my  mind  that  Tirso  de  Jlolina 

1848,  Tom.  V.  p.  xxxvi,)  I  have  seen  used  it.     Lope's  play  is  in  the  tweiity- 

a  complete  set  only  in  the  Imperial  Li-  fourth  volume  of  his  Comedias  (Zara- 

brary  at  Vienna,  and  have  been  able  goza,  1633);  but  it  is  one  of  his  dramas 

with  difficulty  to  collect  between  thirty  that  have  continued  to  be  reprinted  and 

and  forty  separate  plays.     Their  author  read.     There   is   an  excellent   transla- 

says,  however,  in  tlie  Preface  to  his  "Ci-  tion  of  Tirso's  "  Burlador  de  Sevilla" 

ganales  de  Toledo.    Q 624,)  that  he  had  in   the   mea.sures   of   the   original,    by 

written  three  hundred;  and  I  believe  C.  A.  Dohm,  in  his  "Spanische  Dra- 

about  eighty  have  been  printed.    There  men,"    Band    I.,    1841,    and    another 

is  an  autograph  play  of  his  in  the  Duke  by   BraunfeLs,   in   his   "  Dramen   nach 

of  Ossuna's  Library,  dated  Toledo,  30th  dem    Spanischen,"     Frankfort,     1856i, 

May,  1613,  and  his  "No  peor  Sordo"  Tom.   I. 
is  believed  to  have  been  written  in  1596. 


Chap.  XXI.]  TIRSO    DE    MOLINA.  381 

withstand iiig  the  moral  atrocities  it  involves.  It  was, 
therefore,  soon  carried  to  Naples,  and  from  Naples  to 
Paris,  where  the  Italian  actors  took  j^ossession  of  it. 
The  piece  tlins  produced,  which  was  little  more  than 
an  Italian  translation  of  Tirso's,  had  o-reat  success  in 
1656  on  the  boards  of  that  company,  then  very  fash- 
ionable at  the  French  court.  Two  or  three  French 
translations  followed,  and  in  1665  Moliere 
brought  out  his  "  Festin  de  *  Pierre,"  in  which,  *  325 
taking  not  only  the  incidents  of  Tirso,  jjut  often 
his  dialogue,  he  made  the  real  Spanish  fiction  known 
to  Europe  as  it  had  not  been  known  before.^  From 
this  time  the  strange  and  wild  character  conceived  by 
the  Spanish  poet  has  gone  through  the  world  under 
the  name  of  Don  Juan,  followed  by  a  reluctant  and 
shuddering  interest,  that  at  once  marks  what  is  most 
peculiar  in  its  conception,  and  confounds  all  theories 
of  dramatic  interest.  Zamora,  a  writer  of  the  next 
half-centur}^  in  Spain,  Thomas  Corneille  in  France,  and 
Lord  Byron  in  England,  are  the  prominent  poets  to 
whom  it  is  most  indebted  for  its  fame  ;  though  perhaps 
the  genius  of  Mozart  has  done  more  than  an}'  or  all  of 
them  to  reconcile  the  refined  and  elegant  to  its  dark 
and  disgusting  horrors.^ 

At  home,  "  The  Deceiver  of  Seville  "  has  never  been 
the  most  favored  of  Tirso   de   Molina's  works.     That 

*  For  the  way  in  which  this  truly  has  often  been  acted  on  the  American 

Spanish  fiction  was  spread  through  Ita-  stage.     Shadwell's  own  i)Liy  is  too  gross 

ly  to  France,   and  then,  bj'  means  of  to  be  tolerated  anywliere  nowadays,  and 

Moliere,  throughout  the  rest  of  Europe,  besides  has  no  lit('rary  merit, 
see    Parfaits,    "  Histoire    du    Theatre  &  That   the  popularity  of  the   mere 

Fran9ais"   (Paris,    12nio,   Tom.   VIII.,  fiction  of  Don  Juan  lias  been  preserved 

1746,  p.   255  ;  Tom.   IX.,  1746,  pp.  3  in  Spain  may  be  seen  from  tlie  many 

and  343  ;  and  Tom.  X.,  1747,  p.  420);  recent   versions  of  it;    and    esjiecially 

and   Cailhava,    "Art  de  la  Comedie"  from  the  two  pla3's  of  "  Don  Juan  Te- 

(Paris,  1786,    8vo,  Tom.    II.    p.    175).  norio "  by  Zorrilla,  (1844, )  and  his  two 

Shadwell's  "Libertine"  (1676)  is  sub-  poems,    "El  Desafio  del   Diablo,"  and 

stantially  the  same  storj-,  with  added  "  UnTestigode  Bronce,"  (1845,)  hardly 

atrocities  ;  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  is  the  less  dramatic  than  the  plays  that  had 

foundation   of  the   short   drama  wliirh  i)receded  them. 


382  TIRSO    DE    MOLIXA.  [Period  II. 

distinction  belongs  to  '•  Don  Gil  in  the  Green  Pan- 
taloons," perhaps  the  most  strongly  marked  of  the 
successful  intriguing  comedies  in  the  language.  Dofia 
Juana,  its  heroine,  a  ladj'  of  Valladolid.  who  has 
been  shamefully  deserted  bv  her  lover,  follows  him  to 
Madrid,  whither  he  had  gone  to  arrange  for  himself  a 
more  ambitious  match.  In  Madrid,  during  the  fort- 
night the  action  lasts,  she  appears  sometimes  as  a  lady 
named  Elvira,  and  sometimes  as  a  cavalier  named  Don 
Gil ;  but  never  once,  till  the  last  moment,  in  her  own 
proper  person.  In  these  two  assumed  characters,  she 
confounds  all  the  plans  and  plots  of  her  faithless  lover  ; 

makes  his  new  mistress  fall  in  love  with  her; 
*  326    *  writes   letters   to    herself,  as  a  cavalier,  from 

herself,  as  a  lady  ;  and  passes  herself  off,  some- 
times for  her  own  lover,  and  sometimes  for  other  per- 
sonages merely  imaginary. 

Her  family  at  Valladolid,  meantime,  are  made  to 
beheve  slie  is  dead ;  and  two  cavaliers  appearing  in 
Madrid,  the  one  from  design  and  the  other  by  acci- 
dent, in  a  green  dress  like  the  one  she  wears,  (dl  three 
are  taken  to  be  one  and  the  same  individual,  and  tlie 
confusion  becomes  so  unintelligible,  that  her  alarmed 
lover  and  her  own  man-servant  —  the  last  of  whom 
had  never  seen  her  but  in  masculine  attire  at  Madrid 
—  are  persuaded  it  is  some  spirit  come  among  them  in 
the  fated  green  costume,  to  work  out  a  dire  revenge 
for  the  wrongs  it  had  suffered  in  the  flesh.  At  this 
moment,  when  the  uproar  and  alarm  are  at  their 
height,  the  relations  of  the  parties  are  detected,  and 
three  matches  are  made  instead  of  the  one  that  had 
been  broken  off;  —  the  servant,  who  had  been  most 
frightened,  coming  in  at  the  instant  everything  is  set- 
tled, with  his  hat  stuck  full  of  tapers  and  his  clothes 


CiiAi-.  XXI.]  TIKSO    DE    MOLINA.  383 

covered  with  pictures  of  .sjiints,  and  crying  ont,  as  he 
scatters  holy  water  in  everybody's  face  :  — 

Who  Jirays,  wlio  prays  for  lu}'  iiiast<n''s  poor  soul,  — 
His  soul  now  suffeiiiig  i)urgatoiy's  j)ains 
Within  those  selfsame  pantaloons  of  green  ? 

And  when  his  mistress  turns  suddenly  round  and  asks 
him  if  he  is  mad,  the  servant,  terror-struck  at  seeing  a 
lady,  instead  of  a  cavalier,  with  the  countenance  and 
voice  he  at  once  recognizes,  exclaims  in  horror  :  — 

I  do  conjure  thee  by  the  wounds  —  of  all 

Who  suffer  in  the  hosjjital's  worst  ward,  — 

Abrenuntio  !  —  Get  thee  behind  me  ! 
JwxrM.     Fool  !     Don't  you  see  that  I  am  your  Don  Gil, 

Alive  in  body,  and  in  mind  most  sound  ?  — 

That  I  am  talking  here  with  all  these  friends. 

And  none  is  frightened  but  your  foolish  self  ? 
Servant.  Well,  then,  what  are  you,  sir,  —  a  man  or  woman  ? 

Just  tell  me  that. 
Juaiia.  A  woman,  to  be  sure. 

Servant.  No  more  !  enough  !     That  word  explains  the  whole  ;  — 

Ay,  and  if  thirty  worlds  were  going  mad. 

It  would  be  reason  good  for  all  the  uproar. 

*The  chief  characteristic  of  this  play  is  its  *  327 
•extremely  ingenious  and  involved  plot.  Few 
foreigners,  perhaps  not  one,  ever  comprehended  all  its 
intrigue  on  first  reading  it,  or  on  first  seeing  it  acted. 
Yet  it  has  always  been  one  of  the  most  popular  plays 
on  the  Spanish  stage ;  and  the  commonest  and  most 
ignorant  in  the  audiences  of  the  great  cities  of  Spain 
do  not  find  its  ingenuities  and  involutions  otherwise 
than  diverting. 

Quite  different  from  either  of  the  preceding  dramas, 
and  in  some  respects  better  than  either,  is  Tirso's 
"  Bashful  Man  at  Court,"  —  a  play  often  acted,  on  its 
first  appearance,  in  Italy,  as  well  as  in  Spain,  and  one 
in  which,  as  its  author  tells  us,  a  prince  of  Castile  once 
performed  the  part  of  the   hero.     It  is  not  proj^erly 


384  TIRSO    DE    MOLINA.  [ri:i:i<ji)  II. 

historical,  though  partly  foimded  on  the  story  of  Pedro, 
Duke  of  Coimbra,  who,  in  1449,  after  having  been 
regent  of  Portugal,  was  finally  despoiled  of  his  power 
and  defeated  in  an  open  rebellion.'''  Tirso  supposes 
him  to  have  retired  to  the  mountains,  and  there,  dis- 
guised as  a  shepherd,  to  have  educated  a  son  in  com- 
plete ignorance  of  his  rank.  This  son,  under  the  name 
of  Mireno.  is  the  hero  of  the  piece.  Findmg  himself 
possessed  of  nobler  sentiments  and  higher  intelligence 
than  those  of  the  rustics  among  whom  he  lives,  he  half 
suspects  that  he  is  of  noble  origin ;  and,  escaping  from 
his  solitude,  appears  at  court,  determined  to  try  his 
fortune.  Accident  helps  him.  He  enters  the  service 
of  the  royal  favorite,  and  wins  the  love  of  his  daughter, 
who  is  as  free  and  bold,  from  an  excessive  knowledge 
of  the  world,  as  her  lover  is  humble  and  gentle  in  his 
ignorance  of  it.  There  his  rank  is  discovered,  and  the 
play  ends  happily. 

A  story  like  this,  even  with  the  usual  accompaniment 
of  an  underplot,  is  too  slight  and  simple  to  produce 
much  efiect.  But  the  character  of  the  principal  per- 
sonage, and  its  gradual  development,  rendered  it 
long  a  favorite  on  the  Spanish  stage.  Nor  was  this 
preference  unreasonable.      His  nol)le  pride,  struggling 

ao-ainst  the  humble  circumstances  in  which  he 
*  328    finds  himself  placed ;  the  suspicion  *  he  hardly 

dares  to  indulge,  that  his  real  rank  is  equal  to 
his  aspirations,  —  a  suspicion  which  yet  governs  his 
life ;  and  the  modesty  which  tempers  the  most  am- 
bitious of  his  thoughts,  form,  when  taken  together,  one 
of  the  most  lofty  and  beautiful  ideals  of  the  old  Cas- 
tilian  character.^ 

^  Cronioa  de  D.  Juan  el  Scgiindo,  ad      ]>rinted  as  earlj' as  1624,  in  the  "Cigar- 

ann.  ralos  de  Toledo,"  (Madrid,   1624,    4to, 

7  The  "Vergonzoso  en  Palacio"  was      p.  100,)  and  took  its  name,  I  suppose. 


Chap.  XXI.]  TlliSO    I)E    MOLINA.  dbO 

Some  of  Tirso's  secuhir  (Iminas  deal  chiefly  in  recent 
events  and  well-settled  history,  like  his  trilogy  on  the 
achievements  of  the  Pi/arros  in  the  New  World,  and 
their  love-adventures  at  home.  Others  are  founded  on 
facts,  but  with  a  larger  admixture  of  fiction,  like  the 
one  on  the  election  and  pontificate  of  Sixtus  Quintus. 
But  his  religious  dramas  and  autos  are  as  extravagant 
as  those  of  the  other  poets  of  his  time,  and  could 
hardly  be  more  so. 

His  mode  of  treating  his  subjects  seems  to  be  capri- 
cious. Sometimes  he  begins  his  dramas  with  great 
naturalness  and  life,  as  in  one  that  opens  with  the 
«iccidents  of  a  bull-fight,^  and  in  another,  with  the  con- 
fusion consequent  on  the  upsetting  of  a  coach ;  ^  while, 
at  other  times,  he  seems  not  to  care  how  tedious  he  is, 
and  once  breaks  ground  in  the  first  act  with  a  speech 
above  four  hundred  lines  long.^*^  Perhaps  the  most 
characteristic  of  his  openings  is  in  his  ''  Love  for 
Reasons  of  State,"  where  we  have,  at  the  outset,  a 
scene  before  a  lady's  balcony,  a  rope-ladder,  and  a  duel, 
all  full  of  Castilian  spirit.  His  more  obvious  defects 
are  the  too  great  similarity  of  his  characters  and  inci- 
dents ;  the  too  frequent  introduction  of  disguised  ladies 
to  help  on  the  intrigue;  and  the  needless  and  shame- 
less indelicacy  of  some  of  his  stories,  —  a  favdt  ren- 
dered more  remarkable  by  the  circumstance,  that  he 
himself  was  an  ecclesiastic  of  rank,  and  honored  in 
Madrid  as  a  public  preacher.  His  more  uniform  merits 
are  an  invention  which  seems  never  to  tire  or  to 
become  exhausted ;  a  most  happy  power  of  gay 
narration  ;    an   extraordinary  command  of  his  native 

from  a  Spanish  proverb,    "Mozo  ver-  *  "  La  Leal  tad  contra  la  En  vidia." 

gonzoso   no   es    para   ])alacio,"  —  "At  ^  "  Por  el  Sotano  y  el  Torno. " 

court  in  truth  a  bashful  youtli  can  liud  ^^  "  Escarmientos  para  Cuerdos." 
no  place  at  all." 

VOL.  II.  25 


386  MIRA    DE    3IESCUA.  [Pekiud  II. 

*  329  *  Castilian  ;  and  a  rich  and  flowing  versification 
in  all  the  many  varieties  of  metre  demanded  by 
the  audiences  of  the  capital,  who  were  Ijecome  more 
nice  and  exacting  in  this,  perhaj^s.  than  in  any  other 
single  accessory  of  the  drama. 

But  however  various  and  capricious  were  the  forms 
of  Tirso's  drama,  he  was,  in  substance,  always  a  fol- 
lower of  Lope  de  Vega,  and  one  Avho  succeeded  in  vin- 
dicatmg  for  himself  a  place  very  near  his  great  master. 
That  he  was  of  the  school  of  Lope,  he  himself  dis- 
tincth'  anuomices,  boasting  of  it.  and  entering,  at  the 
same  time,  into  an  ingenious  and  elaborate  defence  of 
its  principles  and  practice,  as  opposed  to  those  of  the 
classical  school ;  a  defence  which,  it  is  worthy  of  notice, 
Avas  published  twelve  years  before  the  appearance  of 
Corneille's  "  Cid,"  and  which,  therefore,  to  a  consider- 
able extent,  anticipated  in  Madrid  the  remarkable  con- 
troversy about  the  unities  occasioned  by  that  tragedy 
in  Paris  after  1636,^^  and  sul)sequently  made  the  foun- 
dation of  the  dramatic  schools  of  Corneille,  Racine,  and 
Voltaire. 

Contemporary  with  these  events  and  discussions  lived 
Antonio  Mira  de  Mescua,  well  known  from  1602  to  1635 

"  Cigarrales   de   Toledo,    1624^,    pp.  Bayitist, — is  divided  into  fiv'e  acts,  has 

183-188.     In    1631,    there   was   pub-  a  chorus,  and  is  confined  in  its  action 

lished    at    Milan    a  small    volume    in  within  the  limits  of  twenty-four  hours  ; 

12mo,  entitled  "  Favores  de  las  Musas  • — "para  que  se  vea,"  says  the  editor, 

hechas  a  D.  Sebastian  Francisco  de  ile-  "que  ay  en  Espana  quien  lo  sabe  hacer 

drano  en  varias  Kimas  y  Poesias  que  con  todo  piimor."     This  was  live  years 

compuso  en  la  mas  celebre  Academia  de  before  the  date  of  Corneille's  Cid.     The 

^Madiid,  donde  fue  Presidente  mentis-  volume  in  (juestion  was  to  have  been 

simo."     It  was  edited  by  Alonso  de  Cas-  followed  by  others,  but  none  api>eared, 

tillo  Solorzano,  the  well-known  writer  though    its    author    did    not    die    till 

of  tales,  and  contains  a  little  bad  lyri-  1653.  " 

cal  j)oetn-,  and  three  plays  not  much  I   cannot   help  adding  that  a  great 

Ijetter.     The  author,  1  suppose,  is  not  deal   more   has    been    said   about    the 

the  same  with  Francisco  de  Medrano,  "unities"    as  ]ieculiar  to  the   French 

to  be  noticed  hereafter  among  the  IjTi-  school  in  modem  times  than  belongs  to 

cal  poets,  and  I  should  hardly  mention  the  case.     It  seems  to  me  from  tlie  five 

the  present  volume,  if  it  were  not  that  choruses  in  Hcniy  V.  that  Shakespare 

one  of  its  plays,  —  "  El  Luzero  Eclip-  understood  the  whole  matter  as  well  as 

sado,"  —  on    the   subject  of  John    the  Cardinal  Piichelieu  did. 


Chap.  XX I]  MIRA    DE    MESCUA.  387 

as  a  writer  for  the  stage,  and  iniicli  praised  by  Cervan- 
tes and  Lope  de  Vega.  He  was  a  native  of  Guadix  in 
the  kinu^loni  of  Granada,  and  in  ]iis  voiith  Ijecanie  arch- 
deacon  of  its  cathedral;  but  in  1610  he  was  at  Naples, 
attached  to  the  poetical  coiu't  of  the  Count  de  Lemos, 
and  in  1620  he  gained  a  prize  in  Madrid,  where  he  died 
in  1635  while  in  the  office  of  chaplain  to  Philip 
the  *  Fourth.  He  Avrote  secular  plays,  mdos,  *  330 
and  lyrical  poetry ;  but  his  works  were  never 
collected  and  are  now  found  with  difficulty,  though  not 
a  few  of  his  lighter  compositions  are  in  nearly  all  the 
respectable  selections  of  the  national  poetry  from  his 
own  time  to  the  present.  His  manner  was  very  un- 
equal. 

He,  like  Tirso  de  Molina,  was  an  ecclesiastic  of  rank, 
but  did  not  escape  the  troubles  common  to  writers  for 
the  stage.  One  of  his  dramas,  "  The  Unfortunate  Ra- 
chel," founded  on  the  fable  which  represents  Alfonso 
the  Eighth  as  having  nearly  sacrificed  his  crown  to  his 
passion  for  a  Jewess  of  Toledo,  was  much  altered,  by 
authority,  before  it  could  be  acted,  though  Lope  de 
Vega  had  been  permitted  to  treat  the  same  subject  at 
large  in  the  same  way,  in  the  nineteenth  book  of  his 
"Jerusalem  Conquered."  Mira  de  Mescua,  too,  was 
concerned  in  the  drama  of  "  The  Curate  of  Madrilejos," 
which,  as  we  have  seen,  was  forbidden  to  be  read  or 
acted  even  after  it  had  been  printed.  Still,  there  is  no 
reason  to  suppose  he  did  not  enjoy  the  consideration 
usually  granted  to  successful  writers  for  the  theatre. 
At  least,  we  know  he  was  much  imitated.  His  "  Slave 
of  the  Devil "  was  not  only  remodelled  and  reproduced 
by  Moreto  in  "  Fall  to  rise  again,"  but  was  freely  used 
by  Calderon  in  two  of  his  best-known  dramas.  His 
"  Gallant   both    Brave    and   True "  was    employed  by 


388  YALDIVIELSO.  [Period  II. 

Aliircoii  ill  ••  The  Trial  of  Husbands."     And  his  "  Pahice 
in  Confusion  "  is  the  groundwork  of  Corneille's  "  Don 

Saneho  of  Aragon."  ^' 
*  331         *  Joseph  de  Valdivielso,  another  ecclesiasdc 

of  high  condition,  was  also  a  writer  for  the  stag-e 
at  the  same  time.  He  was  connected  Avitli  the  g-reat 
cathedral  of  Toledo,  and  with  its  princely  primate,  the 
Cardinal  Infante.  But  he  lived  in  Madrid,  where  he 
was  a  member  of  the  same  religious  cono-reg-ation  with 
Cervantes  and  Lope,  and  where  he  was  intimately  asso- 
ciated with  the  principal  men  of  letters  of  his  time. 
He  flourished  from  about  1G07  to  about  1633,  and  can 
be  traced,  during  the  Avhole  of  that  period,  by  his  cer- 
tificates of  approbation,  and  by  commendatory  verses 
which  were  prefixed  to  the  works  of  his  friends  as  they 
successively  appeared.  His  own  publications  are  al- 
most entirely  religious ;  —  those  for  the  stage  consist- 
ing of  a  single  volume  printed  in  1622.  and  containing 
twelve  autos  and  two  religious  plays. 

The  twelve  cmfos  seem,  from  internal  evidence,  to 
have  been  written  for  the  cit}^  of  Toledo,  and  certainly 
to  have  been  performed  there,  as  well  as  in  other  cities 
of  Spain.     He  selected  them  from  a  large  number,  and 

12  The  notices  of  Mira  de  Mescua,  or  can  be  found  only  separate,  or  in  col- 

Amescua,  as  he  is  sometimes  called,  are  lections  made  for  other  pui-poses.     See, 

scattered  like  his  works.     He  is  men-  also,    in  relation  to    Mira  de   Mescua, 

tioned  in  Itoxas,  "  Viage  "  (1602);  and  Montalvan,    "Para  Todos,"  the  Cata- 

I    have    his     "  Desgiaciada    Kacjuel,"  logue  at  the  end  ;  and  Pellicer,   Bibli- 

both  in  a  printed  copy,  where  it  is  at-  oteca,    Tom.    I.   p.    89.     The  story  on 

tributed  to  Diamante,  and  in  an  auto-  which  the    "  Kaijuel "  is  founded  is  a 

graph  MS.,  wlu-re  it  is  sadly  cut  up  to  fiction,  and  therefore  need  not  so  much 

suit   the   ecclesia,stical   censors,    whose  have  disturbed  the  censors  of  the  thea- 

permission    to    represent    it    is    dated  tre.       (Castro,    Cronica   de    Saneho    el 

April     10,    1635.       Guevara    indicates  Deseado,    Alonso  el  Octavo,  etc.,  Ma- 

his  birthplace  and  ecclesiastical  office  drid,    1665,    folio,   pp.    90,  etc.)     Two 

in  the   "  Diablo  Cojuelo,"  Tranco  VI.  aiitos   by  Mira   de    Mescua  are   to   be 

Antonio    (Bib.    Nov.,    ad  verb.)  gives  found  in   "  Na%'idad  y  Corpus  Christi 

him  extravagant  prai.se,  and  says  that  Festejadcs, "  Madrid,   1664,   4to,  and  a 

his  dramas  were  collected  and  published  few  of  his  mi.scellaneous  ])oems  in  Ri- 

together.     But  thi.s,  I  believe,  is  a  mis-  vadeneyra's    Biblioteca,    Tom.    XLII., 

take.     Like    his   shorter   poems,    they  1857. 


CiiAP.  XXL]  VALDIVIELSO.  389 

they  undoubtedly  enjoyed,  during  his  hletime,  a  wide 
popuhirity.  Some,  pei'haps,  deserved  it.  "  The  Prodi- 
gal Son,"  long  a  tempting  subject  wherever  religious 
•dramas  were  known,  was  treated  with  more  than 
usual  skill.  "  Psyche  and  Cupid,"  too,  is  better  uian- 
aged  for  Christian  purposes  than  that  mj'stical  fancy 
commonly  was  by  the  poets  of  the  Spanish  theatre. 
And  "  The  Tree  of  Life  "  is  a  well-sustained  allegory, 
in  which  the  old  theological  contest  between  Divine 
Justice  and  Divine  Mercy  is  carried  through  in  tlie  old 
theological  spirit,  beginning  with  scenes  in  Paradise 
and  ending  with  the  appearance  of  the  Saviour.  But, 
in  general,  the  autos  of  Valdivielso  are  not  better  than 
those  of  his  contemporaries. 

His  two  plays  are  not  so  good.  '^  The  Birth  of  the 
Best,"  as  the  Madonna  is  often  technically  called,  and 
"  The  Guardian  Angel,"  which  is,  again,  an  allegory, 
not  unlike  that  of  "  The-  Tree  of  Life,"  are  both  of 
them  crude  and  wild  compositions,  even  within  the 
broad  limits  permitted  to  the  religious  drama. 
One  *  reason  of  their  success  may  perhaps  be  *  332 
found  in  the  fact,  that  they  have  more  of  the 
tone  of  the  elder  poetry  than  almost  any  of  the  sacred 
plays  of  the  time  ;  —  a  remark  that  may  be  extended 
to  the  aiitos  of  Valdivielso,  in  one  of  which  there  is  a 
spirited  parody  of  the  well-known  ballad  on  the  chal- 
lenge of  Zamora  after  the  murder  of  Sanclio  the  Brave. 
But  the  social  position  of  their  author,  and  perhaps  his 
quibbles  and  quaintnesses,  which  humored  the  l)ad 
taste  of  his  age,  must  be  taken  into  consideration  be- 
fore we  can  account  for  the  extensive  popularity  he 
undoubtedly  enjoyed.^^ 

1'  Antonio,    Rib.  Nova,   Tom.   I.  p.      sess  are  "Doce  Autos  Sacranientales  y 
521.     His  dramatic  works  whicli  I  pes-      dos  Comedias  Diviuas,"  por  el  Maestro 


390  AXTOXIO    DE    MEXDOZA.  [Pei!Iod  II. 

Another  sort  of  favor  fell  to  the  .share  of  Antonio  de 
Mendoza,  who  wrote  much  for  the  conrt  between  1623 
and  1643,  and  died  in  1644.  His  Works  —  besides  a 
nnmber  of  ballads  and  short  poems  addressed  to  the 
Duke  of  Lerma  and  other  prinei])al  persons  of  the 
kingdom  —  contain  a  Life  of  Our  Lady,  in  nearly  eight 
hundred  rcdondillas,  and  five  plays,  to  Avhich  several 
more  may  be  added  from  different  miscellaneous  collec- 
tions. The  poems  are  of  little  value  ;  the  pla3S  are 
better.  "  He  Deserves  Most  who  Loves  Most"  may 
have  contributed  materials  to  Moreto's  ''  Disdain  met 
with  Disdain,"  and  is  certainly  a  pleasant  drama,  with 
natural  situations  and  an  easy  dialogue.  ''  Society 
changes  Manners  "  is  another  real  comedy  with  much 
life  and  gayety.  And  "  Love  for  Love's  Sake,"  which 
has  been  called  its  author's  happiest  effort,  but  which 
is  immensely  long  and  aljoiuids  in  instances  of  bad 
taste,  enjoyed  the  distinction  of  being  acted  before  the 
court  by  the  queen's  maids  of  honor,  who  took  all  the 
parts,  —  those  of  the  cavaliers,  as  well  as  those  of  the 
women.^* 

Joseph  fie  Valdivielso,  Toledo,  162'2,  not  colleeted  till  long  after  his  death, 
4to,  183  leaves.  Compare  the  old  bal-  and  were  then  printed  from  a  uiauu- 
lad,  "Yacabalga  Diego  Ordonez,"  which  script  found  in  the  libraiy  of  the  Arch- 
can  be  traced  to  the  Eomanceroof  1550-  bishop  of  Lisbon,  Luis  de  Souza,  under 
1555,  with  the  "Cronica  del  Cid,"  c.  66,  the  affected  title,  "El  Feuix  Castellano, 
and  the  "Cautivos  Libres,"  f.  25,  a,  of  D.  Antonio  de  Mendoza,  lenascido," 
the  Ui)ce  Autos.  It  will  show  how  the  etc.,  an  excessively  rare  book,  eontain- 
old  ballads  rang  in  the  ears  of  all  men,  ing  the  five  "comedias"  and  other 
ami  i)enetrated  everywhere  into  Spanish  works  {Lisboa,  1690,  4to).  The  only 
]ioetry.  There  is  a  nacimicnto  oi  \a\-  notices  of  consequence  that  I  find  of 
divifiso  in  the  "Navidad  y  Corpus  him  are  in  Montalvan's  "  Para  Todos," 
Christi,"  mentioned  in  the  preceding  and  in  Antonio,  Bib.  Nova.  A  second 
note  ;  but  it  is  verj'  slight  and  poor.  edition  of  his  works,  with  trifling  ad- 
Montalvan,  who  is  a  good  authority,  ditions,  ap])eared  at  iladrid  in  1728, 
says  in  the  dedication  of  his  "Amantes  4to.  "Querer  por  .solo  querer,"  wliich 
de  Teruel,"  that  as  a  wiiter  of  autos  Avas  acted  at  Aranjuez  for  the  fiesta  of 
ValdivieLso  was  the  first  of  his  time.  Philip  IV.  in  1623,  was  translated,  in 
This  wa.s  aboiit  1636,  and  therefore  be-  light  verse,  by  Sir  Richard  Fanshawe, 
fore  Calderon's  great  succes.s.  who  wa.s  sent  as  amba.ssador  to  Madrid 
1*  I  have  a  copy  of  his  "  Vida  de  by  both  Charles  I.  and  Charles  II.,  and 
Nue.stra  Sefiora,"  published  by  his  died  there  in  1666.  His  version,  like 
nephew  in   1652,    but  liis  works  were  an  uncommoidy  large  proiwitioii  of  the 


Chap.  XXI.]  RUIZ    I)E    ALAHCOX.  391 

*  Ruiz  de  Alarcon.who  was  his  contcmporaiy,  *  333 
was  less  favored  during  his  hfetiiiie  tlian  Meii- 
doza,  but  has  much  more  merit.  lie  was  born  at 
Tasco,  in  Mexico,  ))ut  was  descended  from  a  family 
that  belonged  to  Alarcon  in  the  mother  country.  As 
early  as  1622  he  was  in  Madrid,  and  assisted  in  the 
composition  of  a  poor  play  in  honor  of  the  Marquis  of 
Caiiete  for  his  victories  in  Arauco,  which  was  the  joint 
work  of  nine  persons.  In  1628,  he  published  the  first 
volume  of  his  Dramas,  on  the  title-])age  of  which  he 
calls  himself  Prolocutor  of  die  Royal  Coiuuul  for  the 
Indies  ;  a  place  both  of  trust  and  profit.  It  is  dedi- 
cated to  the  Duke  of  Medina  de  las  Torres,  but  it  con- 
tains also  an  address  to  the  Publico  Vulgar,  or  the  Rab- 
ble, in  a  tone  of  savage  contempt  for  the  audiences  of 
Madrid,  wdiich,  if  it  intimates  that  he  had  been  ill- 
treated  on  the  stage,  proves  also  that  he  felt  strong 
enough  to  defy  his  enemies.  To  the  eight  plays  con- 
tained in  this  volume  he  added  twelve  more  in  1635, 
with  a  Preface,  which,  again,  leaves  little  doubt  that 
his  merit  was  undervalued,  as  he  says  he  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  vindicate  for  himself  even  the  authorship  of 
not  a  few  of  the  plays  he  had  written.  He  died  in 
1639.1^  7 

original  play,  is  rhymed,  and  is  among  him  "LaToqiiera  Vizcayna,"  says  neat- 
tlie  very  curious  and  rare  hooks  in  the  ly,  that  he  does  it  on  condition  that 
English  language.  It  is  cited  in  the  Mendoza  shall  forget  his  own  dramas, 
preface  to  Lady  Fanshawe's  Memoirs,  i»  Alarcon  seems,  in  consequence  of 
as  if  published  in  1671,  but  my  copy  is  these  remonstrances,  or  perhaps  in  con- 
dated  1670.  At  the  end  is  an  account,  sequence  of  the  temper  in  which  they 
also  translated  from  Mendoza,  of  a  series  were  made,  to  have  drawn  uj)on  hiin- 
of  magnificent  allegorical  festivities  the  self  a  series  of  attacks  from  the  poets 
preceding  year  at  Aranjuez,  evidently  of  the  time,  G6ng07-a,  Lope  de  Vega, 
very  brilliant,  and  described  in  the  very  Mendoza,  Montalvan,  and  otliers,  some 
spirit  of  a  fantastic  Oa.stilian  courtier.  of  whom  stoop  so  low  as  to  ridicule  him 
Notices  of  Meudoza's  honors  may  be  for  an  nnhappy  deformity  of  his  jici'son. 
found  in  Schack's  Nachtrage,  p.  92.  Si^e  Puibu.sfpie,  Histoire  Comjiai-ee  des 
He  was  one  of  the  Royal  Secretaries,  Litteratures  Es])agnol(!  et  Fi'an(;aise,  2 
but  what  was  of  vastly  more  conse-  torn.,  8vo,  Paiis,  184:?,  Tom.  II.  p]». 
quence,  he  was  Secretary  of  the  Inqui-  l.'io- 164,  and  4:50- 487  ; — a  book  wiit- 
.sitioii.      ^lontalvan,  when  dedicating  to  ten  with  nnich  taste  and  knowledge  of 


392  ItUIZ    DE    ALAECOX.  [Peuiud  II. 

*  334  *  His  "  Domingo  de  Don  Bias,"  one  of  the  few 
uiuoiig  his  works  not  found  in  the  collection 
printed  by  hhuself,  is  a  sketch  of  the  character  of  a 
gentleman  sunk  into  luxury  and  efleminacv  by  the 
possession  of  a  large  fortune  suddenly  won  from  the 
Moors  in  the  time  of  Alfonso  the  Third  of  Ijcon  ;  but 
who,  at  the  call  of  duty,  rouses  himself  again  to  his 
earlier  energy,  and  shows  the  old  Castilian  character 
in  all  its  loyalty  and  generosity.  The  scene  where  he 
refuses  to  risk  his  person  in  a  bull-fight,  merely  to 
amuse  the  Infante,  is  full  of  hiunor,  and  is  finelj-  con- 
trasted, first,  with  the  scene  where  he  runs  all  risks  in 
defence  of  the  same  prince,  and  afterwards,  still  more 
fmely,  with  that  where  he  sacrifices  the  prince,  because 
he  had  failed  in  loyalty  to  his  father. 

'-  How  to  gain  Friends  "  giyes  us  another  exhibition 
of  the  principle  of  loyalty  in  the  time  of  Peter  the 
Cruel,  who  is  here  represented  onlj^  as  a  seyere,  but 
just,  administrator  of  the  law  in  seasons  of  great  trou- 
ble. His  minister  and  fiivorite,  Pedro  de  Luna,  is  one 
of  the  most  noble  characters  offered  to  us  in  the  whole 
range  of  the  Spanish  drama  ;  —  a  character  belonging 
to  a  class  in  which  Alarcon  has  seyeral  times  suc- 
ceeded. 

A  better-known  play  than  either,  howeyer,  is  the 
"  Weaver  of  Segovia."  It  is  in  two  parts.  In  the 
first,  —  which  is  not  believed  to  be  by  Alarcon,  and  is 
of  inferior  merit,  —  its  hero,  Fernando  Ramirez,  is  rep- 
resented as  suffering  the  most  cruel  injustice  at  the 
hands  of  his  sovereign,  who  has  put  his  father  to  death 
under  a  false  imputation  of  treason,  and  reduced  Ra- 
mirez himself  to  the  misery  of  earning  his  subsistence, 

the    subject    to    \vlii(-li    it    relates.      It      wliere    the   date  of   Alaicoii's  death  is 
gained   the  prize  of  1842.     See,   also,      given  by  Pellizer  y  Tobar. 
♦Seiuanaiio  Ermlito,  Tom.  XXXI.  p.  1)1, 


riiAP.   XXL]  RUIZ    DE    ALAKCON  393 

disguised  «is  a  weaver.  Six  years  elapse,  and  in  the 
second  part  he  appears  again,  stung  by  new  wrongs 
and  associated  with  a  band  of  robbers,  at  whose  head, 
after  spreading  terror  through  the  mountain 
ransce  of  the  *  Guadarrama,  he  renders  such  ser-  *  335 
vice  to  his  migrateful  king,  in  the  crisis  of  a 
battle  against  the  Moors,  and  extorts  sucli  confessions 
of  his  own  and  his  fither's  innocence  from  their  dying 
enemy,  that  he  is  restored  to  favor,  and  becomes,  in 
the  Oriental  style,  the  chief  person  in  the  kingdom  he 
has  rescued.  He  is,  in  fact,  another  Charles  de  Molir, 
but  has  the  advantage  of  being  placed  in  a  period  of 
the  world  and  a  state  of  society  where  such  a  character 
is  more  possible  than  in  the  period  assigned  to  it  by 
Schiller,  though  it  can  never  be  one  fitted  for  exhibi- 
tion in  a  drama  that  claims  to  have  a  moral  purpose. 

"Truth  itself  Suspected"  is,  on  the  other  hand, 
obviously  written  for  such  a  purpose.  It  gives  us  the 
character  of  a  young  man,  the  son  of  a  high-minded 
father,  and  himself  otherwise  amiable  and  interesting, 
who  comes  from  the  University  of  Salamanca  to  begin 
the  world  at  Madrid,  with  an  invincible  habit  of  lying. 
The  humor  of  the  drama,  whicli  is  really  great,  consists 
in  the  prodigious  fluency  with  which  he  invents  all 
sorts  of  fictions  to  suit  his  momentary  purposes  ;  the 
ingenuity  with  which  he  struggles  against  the  true 
current  of  facts,  although  it  runs  every  moment  more 
and  more  strongly  against  him  ;  and  the  finjil  result, 
when,  nobody  believing  him,  he  is  reduced  to  the  ne- 
cessity of  telling  the  truth,  and  —  by  a  mistake  which 
he  now  finds  it  impossible  to  persuade  any  one  he  has 
really  committed  —  loses  the  lady  he  had  won,  and  is 
overwhelmed  with  shame  and  disgrace. 

Parts  of  this  drama  are  full  of  spirit ;  such  as  the 


394  RUIZ    DE    ALARCOX.  [Period  II. 

description  of  a  student's  life  at  tlie  University,  and 
that  of  a  brilliant  festival  given  to  a  lady  on  the  banks 
of  the  Manzanares  ;  both  tinged  with  the  Gongorism 
becoming  a  fop  of  the  period.  These,  with  the  exhor- 
tations of  the  young  man's  father,  intended  to  cure  him 
of  his  shameful  fiiult,  and  not  a  little  of  the  dialoo;ue 
between  the  hero  —  if  he  may  be  so  called  —  and  his 
servant,  are  excellent.  It  is  the  piece  from  which 
Corneille  took  the  materials  for  his  "  Menteur,"  and 
thus,  in  1642,  laid  the  foundations  of  classical  French 
comedy    in   a   play   of  Alarcon,  as,  six   years   before, 

lie  had  laid  the  foundations  for  its  classical 
*336    tragedy* in   the  "Cid"  of  Guillen   de   Castro. 

Alarcon,  however,  was  then  so  little  known,  that 
Corneille  honestly  supposed  himself  to  be  using  a  play 
of  Lope  de  Vega,  and  said  so ;  though  it  should  be  re- 
membered, that  when,  some  years  afterwards,  he  found 
out  his  mistake,  he  did  Alarcon  the  justice  to  restore 
him  to  his  rio;hts,  addino;  that  he  would  gladlv  give  the 
two  best  plays  he  had  ever  written  to  be  the  author  of 
the  one  he  had  so  freely  used. 

It  would  not  be  difficult  to  find  other  dramas  of 
Alarcon  showing  equal  judgment  and  spirit.  Such,  in 
fact,  is  the  one  entitled  "  Walls  have  Ears,"  which, 
from  its  mode  of  exhibiting  the  ill  consequences  of 
slander  and  mischief-making,  may  be  regarded  as  the 
counterpart  to  "Truth  itself  Suspected."  And  such, 
too,  is  the  "  Trial  of  Husbands,"  which  has  had  the  for- 
tune to  pass  under  the  names  of  Lope  de  Vega  and 
Montalvan,  as  well  as  of  its  true  author,  and  would 
cast  no  discredit  on  either  of  them.^^  But  it  is  enough 
to  add  to  what  we  have  already  said  of  Alarcon,  that 

^®  It  reminds  me  of  that  part  of  the      Belmont,  and  T  am  not  sure   Init    its 
Merchant   of  Venice  whicli    puiises   at      story  goes  back  to  a  common  source. 


Chap.  XXI.]  VAEIOUS    DRAMATISTS.  395 

his  style  is  excellent,  —  generally  better  than  that  of 
any  but  the  very  best  of  his  contemporaries,  —  with 
less  richness,  indeed,  than  that  of  Tirso  de  Molina, 
and  adhering  more  to  the  old  ballnd  measure  than 
that  of  Lope,  but  purer  in  versificjition  than  either 
of  them,  more  simple  and  more  natural;  so  that,  on 
the'  whole,  he  is  to  be  ranked  wdth  the  very  l^est  Span- 
ish dramatists  during  the  best  period  of  the  national 
theatre.^" 

*  Other  writers  who  devoted  themselves  to  *  337 
the  drama  were,  however,  as  well  known  at 
the  time  they  lived  as  he  was,  if  not  always  as  much 
valued.  Among  them  may  be  mentioned  Luis  de  Bel- 
monte,  whose  "Renegade  of  Yalladolid "  and  "God 
the  best  Guardian"  are  sino-nlar  mixtures  of  what  is 
sacred  with  what  is  profane ;  Jacinto  Cordero,  whose 
"Victory  through  Love"  was  long  a  favorite  on  the 
stage  ;  Andres  Gil  Enriquez,  the  author  of  a  pleasant 
play  called  "  The  Net,  the  Scarf,  and  the  Picture  "  ; 
Diego  Ximenez  de  Enciso,  who  wrote  grave  historical 
plays  on  the  life  of  Charles  the  Fifth  at  Yuste,  and  on 
the  death  of  Don  Carlos  ;  Geronimo  de  Villaizan,  whose 

1'^  Repertorio  Americano,  Tom.  III.  care  and  taste,   (Biblioteca  de  Autores 

p.  61,  Tom.   IV.  p.   93  ;  Denis,   Chro-  Espanoles,    Tom.    XX.,    1852,)    by  D. 

niques  de  I'Espagne,  Paris,  1839,   8vo,  Juan  Eugenic  de  Hartzenbusch.     Their 

Tom.   II.  p.  231  ;  Comedias  Escogidas,  number   is   twentv-seven,    and   among 

Tom.    XXVIII.,    1667,   p.    131.      Cor-  them  is  the  i^'n-s^  Part  of  the  "  Te.xedor 

neille's  opinion  of  the  "  Verdad  So.spe-  de  Segovia,"   which,   as  Alarcon  pub- 

chosa,"  which  is  often  misquoted,  is  to  lished  the   Second   Part  in   his  second 

be  found  in  his  "  E.xamen  du  Menteur."  volume,  without  any  allusion  to  a  first 

I  will  only  add,  in  relation  to  Alarcon,  one,  we  suppose,  as  Hartzenbusch  does, 

that,  in   "  Nunca  mucho  costo  poco,"  there  is  good  ground  for  believing  not 

he  has  given  us  the  character  of  an  im-  to  be  his.     There  is  also  internal  evi- 

perious  old  nurse,  which  is  well  drawn,  denee,  I  think,  to  the  same  effect. 
and  made  effective  by  the  use  of  pic-  There  is  a  French  translation  of  five 

turesque,    but   antiquated,   words   and  of  the  plays  of  Alarcon  and  abstracts 

phrases.  of  the  rest  by  Alphonse  Koyer,  1865. 

Since  the  first  edition  of  this  work  If  anybody  would  like  to  see  how  a 

Avas  published,  (1849,)  all  tlie  plays  at-  Spanish    comcdia    can    be    spoiled,     I 

tributed  to  Alai-con,  including  one  to  commend  him  to  Royer's  version  of  the 

which  he  was  only  a  contrilmtor,  and  "  Ganar  Amigos."     It  is  the  only  one 

two  whose  genuineness  is  doubtful,  have  in  verse.     The  four  others  are  in  prose, 

been  collected  and  published,  with  much  and  are  better. 


396  VARIOUS    DRAMATISTS.  [Pekiod  XL 

best  play  is  "A  Great  Remedy  for  a  Great  Wrong"; 
and  many  others,  such  as  Carlos  Boil,  Felipe  Godinez, 
Miguel  Sanchez,  and  Rodrigo  de  Herrera,  Avho  shared, 
in  an  inferior  degree,  the  Itivor  of  the  popular  audiences 
at  Madrid.i^ 

Writers  distinguished  in  other  branches  of  literature 
were  also  tempted  by  the  success  of  those  devoted  to 
the  stage  to  adventure  for  the  brilliant  prizes  it  scat- 
tered on  all  sides.  Salas  Barbadillo,  who  wrote  many 
pleasant  tales  and  died  in  1635,  left  behind  him  two 
dramas,  of  which  one  claims  to  be  in  the  manner  of 
Terence.^^  Solorzano,  who  died  ten  years  later,  and 
was  known  in  the  same  forms  of  elegant  literature  with 
Barbadillo,  is  the  author  of  a  spirited  play,  founded 
on  the  story  of  a  lady,  who,  after  having  accepted  a 
noble  lover  from  interested  mo^tives,  gives  him  up  for 

the  servant  of  that  lover,  put  forward  in  dis- 
*  338    guise,  as    if  he  *  were    possessor  of  the   very 

estates  for  which  she  had  accepted  his  master.^ 
Gongora  wrote  one  play,  and  parts  of  two  others,  still 

1**  The  pla3's  of  tliese  autliors  are  think,  hy  Antonio,  by  Lope  de  Vega, 
found  in  the  large  collection  entitled  or  by  the  common  historians  of  Seville, 
"Comedias  Escogidas,"  Madriil,  1652-  where  he  was  born)  wrote  a  considerable 
1704,  4to,  with  the  exception  of  those  number  of  plays,  to  be  found  in  the  old 
of  Sanchez  and  Villaizan,  which  I  pos-  collections.  He  was  alive  in  1644,  and 
sess  separate  ;  of  Sanchez  one,  of  Vil-  enjoyed  a  good  reputation  in  his  time, 
laizan  two.  Of  Belmonte,  who  is  the  ^^  The  plays  of  Salas  Barbadillo,  viz. 
author  of  the  "Sastre  del  Campillo,"  "Victoria  de  Espaha  y  Francia  "  and 
commonly  attributed  to  Lope  de  Vega,  "  El  (lalan  Tram])oso  y  Pobre,"  are  in 
(see  Shack's  Nachtrage,  1854,  p.  62,)  his  "  Coronas  del  Parnaso,"  left  for  pub- 
there  are  eleven  in  the  collection,  and  lication  at  his  death,  and  pnbli.shed  the 
of  Godinez,  live.  Tliose  of  Miguel  San-  same  year,  1635,  Madrid,  12nio.  Other 
chez,  who  was  very  famous  in  his  time,  dramas  by  him  are  scattered  through 
and  obtained  the  addition  to  his  name  his  other  Works,  —  some  of  them  called 
of  El  Diviwj,  are  nearly  all  lost ;  but  comedias  antUjuas,  by  which  he  means 
his  "  Guarda  Cuidado.sa  "  may  be  found  cntremcses,  becau.se  tliev  were  like  the 
in  the  '*  Difirentes  Comedias,"  Parte  early  dramas  of  Lopi;  de  Kueda  a  d  his 
v.,  1616,  mentioned  ante,  p.  297,  note  school,  wliich  weie  used  as  entremescs 
5.  I  observe  fj-om  the  "  Noches  de  in  the  time  of  Harhadilio. 
Plazer"  of  Castillo  Solorzano,  (1631,  f.  ^o  j^  jg  called  "El  Mayorazgo,"  and 
5,  b,)  tliat  Diego  Ximenez  de  Enciso  was  is  found  with  its  ha  at  the  end  of  the 
a  native  of  Seville  and  a  Veintcqiuitro  author's  "  Alivins  de  Casandra,"  1640. 
of  that  city.  Felipe  Godinez  (who  is  Several  other  dramas  are  found  scat- 
luentioned    by   Cervantes,    but   not,    I  tered  through  his  tale. 


Cii.vr.  XX].]  PHILIP   THE    FOURTH.  397 

preserved  in  the  collection  oi"  his  Works  ;-^  and  Que- 
vedo,  to  please  the  great  favorite,  the  Count  Duke 
Olivares,  assisted  in  the  composition  of  at  least  a  single 
drama,  which  is  now  lost,  if  it  be  not  preserved,  under 
another  name,  in  the  works  of  Antonio  de  Mendoza."^ 
But  the  circumstances  of  chief  consequence  in  relation 
to  all  these  writers  are,  that  they  belonged  to  the 
school  of  Lope  de  Vega,  and  that  they  bear  witness 
to  the  vast  popularity  of  his  drama  in  their  time, 
which  could  control  men  such  as  they  were. 

Indeed,  so  attractive  was  the  theatre  now  become, 
that  ecclesiastics  and  the  higher  nobilit}',  who,  from 
their  j^osition  in  society,  did  not  wish  to  be  known  as 
dramatic  authors,  still  wrote  for  the  stage,  sending 
their  plays  to  the  actors  or  to  the  press  anonymously. 
Such  persons  generally  announced  their  dramas  as 
written  by  "  A  Wit  of  this  Court,"  —  JJn  Ingenio  de  esta 
Corte,  —  and  a  large  collection  of  pieces  could  now  be 
made,  wdiich  are  known  only  under  this  mask  ;  a  mask, 
it  may  be  observed,  often  significant  of  the  pretensions 
of  those  whom  it  claims  partly  to  conceal.  Even  Philip 
the  Fourth,  who  was  a  lover  of  the  arts  and  of  letters, 
is  said  to  have  sometimes  used  it ;  and  there  is  a  com- 
mon tradition,  but  an  erroneous  one,  that  "  Giving  my 
Life  for  my  Lady,  or  The  Earl  of  Essex,"  was  his. 
Possibly,  however,  one  or  two  other  plays  were  either 
from  his  hand,  or  indebted  to  his  poetical  talent  and 
skill.     But  even  this  is  not  wary  probable.^^ 

21  These  are,  "Las  Firmezas  de  Isa-  p.  l77.)     This  play  is  lost,  iinless,  as 

bela,"   "  El  Doctor  Carlino,"  and  "La  I  suspect,  it  is  the  "  Kinpenos  di-l  Jleu- 

Comedia  Venatoria," — the  last  two  un-  tir,"  that  occurs  in  Meudoza's  Works, 

finished,  and  the  very  last  allegorical.  1690,    pp.    254-296.     There   are   also 

2^  The    jilay    written    to    please    the  four  cwi7-e??M;.5c.sof  Quevedoin  his  Work.s, 

Count  Duke  was  by  Quevedo  and  An-  1791,  Vol.  IX. 

tonio    de    Mendoza,    and    was    entitled  '•**  Philip  IV.  was  a  lover  of  letters. 

"  Quien    mas    niieiitc    niedra    mas," —  Tran.slations  of  Franci'sco  Guicciardini's 

"He   that    lies   most  will    ri.se   most."  "  Wars  in  Italy,"  and  of  the  "  Descrij)- 

(C.  Pellicer,  Origeu  del  Teatro,  Tom.  I.  tion    of  the    Low    Countries,"    by    liis 


398 


EL    DIABLO    PEEDICADOE. 


[Pkkiud  IL 


139 


*  One  of  the  most  remarkable  of  these  '•  Co- 


medias  de  mi  Ingenio  "  is  that  called  "•  The  Devil 
turned  Preacher."  Its  scene  is  laid  in  Lucca,  and  its 
original  ]nn*pose  seems  to  have  been  to  glorif}*  Saint 
Francis,  and  to  strengthen  the  influence  of  his  follow- 
ers. x\t  any  rate,  in  the  long  introductory  speech  of 
Lucifer,  that  potentate  represents  himself  as  most 
happy  at  having  so  far  triumphed  over  these  his  great 
enemies,  that  a  poor  community  of  Franciscans,  estab- 
lished in  Lucca,  is  likely  to  be  starved  out  of  the  city 
by  the  universal  ill-will  he  has  excited  against  tliem. 
But  his  triumph  is  short.  Saint  Michael  descends  with 
the  infant  Saviour  in  his  arms,  and  requires  Satan  him- 
self immediately  to  reconvert  the  same  inhabitants 
whose  hearts  he  had  hardened  ;  to  build  up  the  very 
convent  of  the  holy  1)rotlierhood  which  he  had  so 
nearly  overthrown  ;  and  to  place  the  poor  friars,  who 


nephew,  Luigi  Guicciardiiii,  made  by 
Philip,  and  preceded  by  a  well-written 
Prologo,  are  said  to  be  iu  the  National 
Librarj-  at  Madrid.  (C.  Pellicer,  Ori- 
gen,  Tom.  L  p.  162  ;  Huerta,  Teatro 
Hespauol,  Madrid,  1785,  12mo,  Parte 
I.,  Tom.  IlL  p.  159  :  and  Ochoa,  Tea- 
tro, Paris,  18-38,  8vo,  Tom.  V.  p.  98.) 
"King  Henry  tlie  Feeble"  is  also 
among  the  plaj^s  .sometimes  ascribed  to 
Philip  IV.,  who  is  .said  to  have  often 
joined  in  improvisatiug  drama-s,  —  an 
amusement  well  known  at  the  court  of 
Aladrid,  and  at  the  hardly  less  s]>lendid 
court  of  the  Count  de  Lemos  at  Naples. 
C.  Pellicer,  Teatro,  Tom.  L  p.  163,  and 
J.  A.  Pellicer,  Bib.  de  Traductores, 
Tom.  L  pp.  90-92,  where  a  curious 
account,  already  leferred  to,  is  given  of 
one  of  these  Neapolitan  exhibitioiLS,  by 
Estrada,  who  witnes.sed  it.  But  I  have 
great  doubts  concerning  all  these  sug- 
gestions. That  Philip  IV.  did  not 
write  the  "C'onde  de  Se.v,"  which  I 
possess  in  Vol.  XXXI.  of  the  Difercntcs 
Comedias,  16.36,  is  .settled  by  Schack, 
(Nachtrage,  1854,  p.  102,)  who  found 
the  original  in  the  autograph  of  Coello, 
a  known  dramatist  who  died  in  1652. 
It  may  be  well  to  add,  however,  when 


speaking  of  this  ]>lay,  that  there  is  a 
very  acute  and  extended  e.xamiuation 
of  it  by  Ijcssing,  who,  with  Wieland, 
gave  the  tirst  impulse  to  that  love  for 
Spanish  literature  in  Gennany  which 
the  Schlegels,  Bouterwek,  and  Schack 
have  since  so  well  sustained.  (See 
Hamburgische  Dramaturgic,  Berlin, 
1805,  Tom.  II.  pp.  58-126.)  But  as 
to  Philip  IV.,  to  whom  poems  are  at- 
tributed in  the  Biblioteca  of  Rivade- 
neyra,  (Tom.  XLII.,  1857,  pp.  151, 
152,)  and  in  the  Spanish  translation  of 
this  History,  (Tom.  II.  p.  563,)  I  doubt 
the  genuineness  of  all  of  them.  Philip 
IV.  was  a  sensualist,  —  not,  indeed, 
without  a  taste  for  letters  and  the  arts, 
—  but  not  an  author  in  any  proper 
sense  of  tlic  word.  And  yet  one  of  the 
court  Hatterers  of  the  time  could  say  of 
him  :  "  Es  de  los  mas  perfetos  musicos 
y  mas  felices  poetas  que  oy  se  conocen, 
sin  que  para  esta  verdad  sea  menester 
de  valernos  de  la  li.sonja."'  Pellicer  de 
Sala.s,  Lecciones  solennes  de  Gongora, 
1630,  col.  696,  697.  The  two  sonnets 
attributed  to  Don  Carlos  of  Austria, 
brother  of  Philip  IV.,  are  probably  his, 
and  are  not  bail  for  a  prince.  Rivade- 
neyra,  1.  c.  p.  153. 


€HAP.  XXI.]  EL    DIABLO    PKEDiCADOR.  399 

were  now  pelted  by  the  boys  in  the  streets,  upon  a 
foundation  of  respectabiKty  safer  than  that  from  which 
he  had  driven  them.  Tlie  humoi-  of  the  piece  consists 
in  his  conduct  while  executing  the  imwelcome  task 
thus  imposed  upon  him.  To  do  it,  he  takes,  at  once, 
the  habit  of  the  monks  he  detests ;  he  goes 
round  to  beg  for  them ;  *  he  superintends  the  *  340 
erection  of  an  ampler  edifice  for  their  accom- 
modation ;  he  preaches ;  he  prays ;  he  works  miracles ; 
—  and  all  with  the  greatest  earnestness  and  unction, 
in  order  the  sooner  to  be  rid  of  a  business  so  thoroughly 
disagreeable  to  him,  and  of  which  he  is  constantly  com- 
plaining in  equivocal  phrases  and  bitter  side-speeches, 
that  give  him  the  comfort  of  expressing  a  vexation  he 
cannot  entirely  control,  but  dares  not  openly  make 
known.  At  last  he  succeeds.  The  hateful  work  is 
done.  But  the  agent  is  not  dismissed  with  honor. 
On  the  contrary,  he  is  obliged,  in  the  closing  scene,  to 
confess  who  he  is,  and  to  avow  that  nothing,  after  all, 
awaits  him  but  the  flames  of  perdition,  into  which  he 
visibly  sinks,  like  another  Don  Juan,  before  the  edified 
audience. 

The  action  occupies  above  five  months.  It  has  an 
intriguing  underplot,  which  hardly  disturbs  the  course 
of  the  main  story,  and  one  of  whose  personages  —  the 
heroine  herself — is  gentle  and  attractive.  The  char- 
acter of  the  Father  Guardian  of  the  Franciscan  monks, 
full  of  simplicity,  humble,  trustful,  and  submissive,  is 
also  finely  drawn ;  and  so  is  the  opposite  one,  —  the 
gracioso  of  the  piece,  —  a  liar,  a  coward,  and  a  glutton  ; 
ignorant  and  cunning ;  whom  Lucifer  amuses  himself 
with  teasing,  in  every  possible  way,  whenever  he  has 
a  moment  to  spare  from  the  disagreeable  work  he  is  so 
anxious  to  finish. 


400  EL    DIABLO    rilEDKADOK.  [Pekiod  IL 

In  some  of  the  early  copies,  this  drama,  so  character- 
istic of  the  aire  to  which  it  beloiio-s,  is  attributed  to 
Luis  de  Behiionte,  and  in  some  of  them  to  Antonio  de 
Coello,  cahed  erroneously  Luis  de  Coello  in  the  ''  Cata- 
logo"  of  Huerta.  Later,  it  is  declared,  though  on  what 
authority  we  are  not  told,  to  have  been  written  b^' 
Francisco  Damian  de  Cornejo,  a  Franciscan  monk.  All 
this,  however,  is  uncertain,  although  Belmonte  is  more 
likely  to  have  been  its  author  than  either  of  the  others. 
But  we  know,  that,  for  a  long  time  after  it  appeared, 
it  used  to  be  acted  as  a  devout  work,  favorable  to  the 
interests  of  the  Franciscans,  mIio  then  possessed  great 
influence  in  Spain.  Li  the  latter  part  of  the  eigh- 
teenth .  century,  however,  this  state  of  things  was 
partly  changed,  and  its  pu])lic  performance,  for  some 
reason  or  other,  was  forbidden.  About  LSOO.  it 
*  341  *  reappeared  on  the  stage,  and  was  again  acted, 
with  great  profit,  all  over  the  country-,  —  the 
Franciscan  monks  lending  the  needful  monastic  dresses 
for  an  exhibition  they  thought  so  honorable  to  their 
order.  But  in  1804  it  was  put  anew  under  the  ban  of 
the  Inquisition,  and  so  remained  until  after  the  political 
revolution  of  1820,  which  gave  absolute  liberty  to  the 
theatre."^ 

-*  C.  Pellicer,  Origen,  Tom.  L  p.  184,  drawn  my  attention  to  tlie  fact,  that  a 

note;  Suplemento al  Inilice,  etc.,  1805;  poor  play  by  Francisco  de  Mahispina, 

and  an  excellent  article  by   Louis  de  entitled  "  La  Fuerza  de  la  Verdad,"  is 

Yii'il   ("astel,    in   the   Hcvue  des  Deu.x  nearly  identical  in  its  subject  with  the 

Mondes,  July  15, 1840.     To  these  .should  "Diablo    Predicador."       It    is   in   the 

l)e  added  the  i>lea.sant  de-scrijition  given  Comedias  Escogidas,  Tom.  XIV.,  1661, 

by    Blanco   White,    in    his    admii-able  f.  182,  and  at  the  opening,  the  Devil 

"  Doblado's  Letteis,"  (1822,  jjp.   163-  puts  his  ca,se  with  more  force  and  in- 

169,)    of  a   representation   he   himself  genuity,  I  think,  than  he  does  in  the 

witnessed  of  the  "Diablo  Predicador,"  "Diablo    Predicador."     In    two  MSS. 

in  the  court-yard  of  a  ]ioor  inn,  where  of  the  la,st,  it  is  attnbuted  to  Francisco 

a  cow-house  .served  for  the  theatre,  or  de  Villcgas,   but  the  common  ojiinion 

rather  the  stage,   and   the   spectators,  that  it  was  written  by  Belmonte  is  the 

wlio  paid  less  than  twopence  apiece  for  more  likely  one.     Schack's  Xachtrage, 

their  jilaces,  sat  in  the  open  air,  under  1854,  j>.  62. 
a  bright  starr}'  .sky.  Belmonte  was  born  about  1587  ;  was 

My  friend,   Mr.  J.   R.  Chorley,  has  in  the  "Certamenes"  for  San  Isidro  at 


Chap.  XXI.]  THE    DKAM.V    OPPOSED.  401 

The  school  of  Jjopo,-"^  to  which  all  the  writers  we 
have  just  enumerated,  and  many  more,  belonged,  was 
not  received  with  an  absolutely  universal  applause. 
Men  of  learning,  IVoni  time  to  time,  refused  to  be  rec- 
onciled to  it ;  and  severe  or  captious  critics  found  in 
its  gross  irregularities  and  extravagances  abiuidant 
opportunity  for  the  exercise  of  a  spirit  of  complaint. 
Alonso  Lopez,  commonly  called  El  Pinciano,  in  his 
^^  Art  of  Poetry  founded  on  the  Doctrines  of  the 
Ancients,"  —  a  modest  treatise,  which  he  printed  as 
€arly  as  1596,  —  shows  plainly,  in  his  discussions  on 
the  nature  of  tragedy  and  comedy,  that  he  was  far 
from  consenting  to  the  forms  of  the  drama  then  begin- 
ning to  prevail  on  the  theatre.  The  Argensolas,  who, 
about  ten  years  earlier,  had  attempted  to  introduce  an- 
other and  more  classical  ty])e,  would,  of  course,  be  even 
less  satisfied  with  the  tendency  of  things  in  their  time ; 
and  one  of  them,  Bartolome,  speaks  his  opinion  very 
openly  in  his  didactic  satires.  Others  joined  them, 
among  whom  were  Artieda,  in  a  poetical  epistle 
to  the  Marquis  of  Cuellar ;  *  Villegas,  the  sweet  *  342 
lyrical  poet,  in  his  seventh  elegy ;  and  Chris- 
toval  de  Mesa,  in  different  passages  of  his  minor  poems, 
and  in  the  Preface  to  his  ill-constructed  tragedy  of 
"  Pompey."  If  to  these  we  add  a  scientific  discussion 
on  the  True  Structure  of  Tragedy  and  Comedy,  in  the 
third  and  fourth  of  the  Poetical  Tables  of  Cascales,  and 

Madrid  in  1620  and  1622,  and  seems  ^  For  the  scliool  of  Lope,  see  Bib- 
to  have  been  alive  in  1649.  In  the  lioteca  de  Antores  Espafioles,  (Tom. 
address  to  the  reader,  precedinc?  the  XLIII.  and  XLV.,  1857  and  1858,) 
drama  on  the  Marquis  of  Caiiete,  wliich  wheii;  Don  Ramon  de  Jlesonero  Ro- 
it  took  nine  poets  to  make  so  dull,  (see  raanos  has  made  a  collection  of  fifty- 
post,  Chap.  XXVII.  note  14,)  he  says  nine  plays  to  illustrate  it.  The  Cata- 
of  himself,  "  Estando  yo  en  Lima  el  aho  logue  of  Authors,  with  alpliabetieal 
de605";  —  so  that  he  was  in  Peru  wlien  lists  of  their  known  plays  following 
he  was  young,  and  ought  to  have  known  their  names,  is  in  Vol.  XLIV.,  and  is 
better  than  to  assist  in  doing  lionor  to  particularly  valuable, 
such  a  man  as  he  would  illustrate. 
VOL.   II.                                 26 


402  THE    DRAMA    0PP0S?:D.  [Peimod  IL 

a  harsh  account  of  the  \vhole  })opular  Spanish  stage,  by 
Suarez  de  Figueroa,  in  which  httle  is  noticed  but  its 
follies,  we  shall  have,  if  not  cverythiniz:  that  was  said 
on  the  subject  by  the  scholars  of  the  time,  at  least 
everything  that  needs  now  to  l)e  remembered.  The 
whole  is  of  less  consequence  than  the  frank  admissions 
of  Lope  de  Vega,  in  his  "New  Art  of  the  Drama."  ^ 

The  opposition  of  the  Church,  more  formidal)le  than 
that  of  the  scholars  of  the  time,  was,  in  some  respects, 
better  founded,  since  many  of  the  plays  of  this  period 
were  indecent,  and  more  of  them  immoral.  The  eccle- 
siastical influence,  as  we  have  seen,  had,  therefore,  been 
earh'  directed  against  the  theatre,  partly  on  this  ac- 
count and  partly  because  the  secular  drama  had  super- 
seded those  representations  in  the  churches  which  had 
so  long  been  among  the  means  used  by  the  priesthood 
to  sustain  their  power  with  the  mass  of  the  people. 
On  these  grounds,  in  fact,  the  plays  of  Torres  Naharro 
were  suppressed  in  1545,  and  a  petition  was  sent,  in 
1548,  b}'  the  Cortes,  to  Charles  the  Fifth,  against  the 
printing  and  publishing  of  all  indecent  farces.^" 
*  343    For   a    *  long   time,  however,  little    was    done 

^  El  Pinciano,  Filosofia  Antigua  Po-  Gayangos,  in  his  translation  of  this 

etit-a,  Madrid,   Ij9t3,  4to,  p.  381,  etc.  ;  History,  ^Tom.  II.  pp.  558-560,)  gives 

Andres  Rey  dc  Artieda,  Discui-sos,  etc.  an  account  of  an  attack,   in  1617,  on 

de   Artemidoro,    faragoca,    1605,    4to,  Lope  as  a  dramatist,  by  a  certain  Pedro 

f.    87  ;   C.    de    Mesa,    Kimas,    Madrid,  Torres  de  Raniila,  and  of  answers  to  it 

1611,  12mo,  tf.  94,  145,   218,  and  his  by  Julio  Colunibario  (a  pseudonyme  for 

Pompeyo,    Madrid,    1618,    12mo,    with  Francisco    Lopez  de  Aguilar)  and  Al- 

its   DcdicnUrria  ;  Cascalcs,   Tablas  Po-  fonso  Sanchez  ;  —  all  in  Latin,  and  all, 

eticas,    Murcia,    1616,    4to,    Parte  II.  ;  apparently,    in   the   bitterest  spirit  of 

0.  S.  de  Figueroa,   Pasagero,   Madrid,  Spanish  litei-arycontrovei-sy.     But  LojKi 

1617,    12nio,   Alivio  tercero  ;   Est.    M.  suffered  little  ])eisonally  in   this  way. 

de   Villi-gas,     Erotica-s,    Najera,    1617,  His  popularity  was  overwhelming.     Af- 

4to,  Segunda  Parte,   f.  27  ;  Los  Argen-  ter  his  death,  he  was  oftener  attacked, 

solas,    Himas,   Zaragoza,    1634,    4to,  p.  e.  g.  by  Antonio  Lopez  de  Vega,   (see 

447.     I  have  arranged  them  according  post.  Chap.  XXIX.,)  who  did  it,  very 

to  their  dates,   because,    in  this  ca.se,  nngi'atefully,  in  his  Heraclito  \'  Demo- 

the  order  of  time  is  imjiortant,  and  be-  crito,   (1641,  i)p.   176,  sfjq.,)  for  Lope 

cause  it  should  be  noticed  that  all  come  had  been  kind  to  him  earlier, 
within  the  period  of  Lope's  success  as  a         ^7  d    (Quixote,  ed.  Clemencin,  Tom. 

dramatist.  III.  p.  402,  note. 


CuAi'.  XXI.]  THE    DRAMA    OPPOSED.  403 

but  to  suspend  dmiuatic  re])reseutations  in  seasons 
of  court  mourning,  and  on  other  occasions  of  public 
sorrow  or  trouble  ;  —  this  being,  perhaps,  thought  by 
the  clergy  an  exercise  of  their  influence  that  would,  in 
the  course  of  events,  lead  to  more  important  conces- 
sions. 

But  as  the  theatre  rose  into  importance  with  the 
popularity  of  Lope  de  Vega,  the  discussions  on  its 
character  and  consequences  grew  graver.  Even  just 
before  that  time,  in  1587,  Philip  the  Second  consulted 
some  of  the  leading  theologians  of  the  kingdom,  and 
was  urged  to  suppress  altogether  the  acted  drama ;  but, 
after  much  deliberation,  he  followed  the  milder  opin- 
ion of  Alonso  de  Mendoza,  a  professor  at  Salamanca, 
and  determined  still  to  tolerate  it,  but  to  subject  it 
constantly  to  a  careful  and  even  strict  supervision.  In 
1597,  the  same  Philip,  more  monk  than  king,  ordered, 
according  to  the  custom  of  the  time,  the  public  repre- 
sentations at  Madrid  to  be  suspended,  in  consequence 
of  the  death  of  his  daughter,  the  Duchess  of  Savoy. 
But  Philip  was  now  old  and  infirm.  The  opposers  of 
the  theatre,  among  whom  was  Lupercio  de  Argensola, 
gathered  around  him.^^  The  discussion  was  renewed 
with  increased  earnestness,  and  in  1598,  not  long  be- 
fore he  breathed  his  last  in  the  Escorial,  with  his  dying 
eyes  fastened  on  its  high  altar,  he  forbade  theatrical 
representations  altogether.  No  attack,  however,  on 
the  theatre  and  its  actors  was  so  grave  and  pnngent 
as  that  of  Mariana  in  his  De  Rege,  1599,  repeated  and 
reinforced  in  his  De  Spectaculis,  ten  years  later.  The 
wonder  is  that  it  produced  so  little  effect,  coming  as 
it  did,  in  its  first  form,  during  the  dark  period  imme- 
diately following  the  death  of  the  king. 

^*  Pellicer,  Bib.  de Tiaductores,  Tom.  I.  p.  11. 


404  THE    DIJAMA    TKIUMPHAXT.  [Priiioi.  II. 

Little,  in  truth,  was  reall}^  effected  by  this  struggle  on 
the  part  of  the  Church,  except  that  the  dramatic  poets 
were  compelled  to  discover  ingenious  modes  for  evad- 
inu'  the  authority  exercised  ao'ainst  them,  and  that  the 
character  of  the  actors  was  degraded  ))y  it.  To  drive 
the  drama  from  ground  where  itAvas  so  well  intrenched 

behind  the  general  favor  of  the  people  was 
*344    impossible.     The  *  city  of  Madrid,  already  the 

acknowledged  capital  of  the  country,  begged 
that  the  theatres  might  again  be  opened  ;  giving, 
a.s  one  reason  for  their  request,  that  many  religious 
plays  were  performed,  by  some  of  which  both  actors 
and  spectators  had  been  so  moved  to  penitence  as  to 
hasten  directly  from  the  theatre  to  enter  religious 
houses;"^  and  as  another  reason,  that  the  rent  paid 
by  the  companies  of  actors  to  the  hospitals  of  Madrid 
was  important  to  the  \ery  existence  of  those  great  and 
beneficent  charities.®^ 

Moved  by  such  arguments,  Philip  the  Third,  in  IGOO, 
when  the  theatres  had  been  shut  hardly  two  years, 
summoned  a  council  of  ecclesiastics  and  four  of  the 
principal  secular  authorities  of  the  kingdom,  and  laid 
the  whole  subject  before  them.  Under  their  advice, 
—  which  still  condemned  in  the  strongest  manner  the 
theatres  as  they  had  heretofore  existed  in  Spain,  —  he 

29  As  a  sf't-off  to  this  alleged  religious  (f.   98)  says  that  the   hospitals  made 

eflect  of  the  comedias  ik  mntofi,  we  have,  such  efforts  to  sustain  the  theatres,  in 

in  the  Address  that  opens  tlie  "  Tiatado  order  to  get  an  income  from  tlieni  after- 

de  las  Comedias,"  (1618,)  by  Ihsbe  y  wards,  that  they  themselves  were  some- 

Vidal,  an  account  of  a  young  girl  who  times  impoverished  by  the  speculations 

was  permitted  to  see  the  representation  they  ventured  to  make  ;  and  adds,  that 

of  the  "Conversion  of  Man.-  Magdalen  "  in  his  time  (c.  1618)  theie  was  a  pei-son 

several  times,  as  an  act  of  devotion,  alive,  who,  as  a  magistrate  of  Valencia, 

and  ended  her  visits  to  the  theatre  by  had  been  the  means  of  such  losses  to 

falling  in  love  with  the  actor  that  i>er-  the  hospital  of  that  city,  through  its 

sonated  the  Saviour,  and  running  off  investments  and  advances  for  the  the- 

with  him,  or  rather  following  him  to  atre   that   he    had  entered   a  religious 

Madrid.  hou.se,  and  given  his  whole  foiiiine  to 

**  The  account,  however,  was  some-  the  hospital,  to  make  up  for  the  injury 

times  the  other  way.     Bisbe  y  Vidal  he  had  done  it. 


€UAP.  XXL]  TlIK    DRAMA    TEIUMPHANT.  40-5 

permitted  tliein  to  be  opened  anew;  diminishing-,  how- 
ever, the  number  of  actors,  forbidding  all  immorality 
in  the  plays,  and  allowing  representations  only  on  Sun- 
days and  three  other  days  in  the  week,  which  were 
required  to  be  Church  festivals,  if  such  festivals  should 
occur.  This  decision  has,  on  the  whole,  been  hardlj^ 
yet  disturbed,  and  the  theatre  in  Spain,  with  occasional 
alterations  and  additions  of  privilege,  has  continued  to 
rest  safely  on  its  foundations  ever  since  ;  —  closed,  in- 
deed, sometimes,  in  seasons  of  public  mourning,  as  it 
was  three  months  on  the  death  of  Philip  the  Third, 
and  again  in  1665,  by  the  bigotry  of  the  queen 
regent,  but  never  *  interrupted  for  any  long  *  345 
period,  and  never  again  called  to  contend  for 
its  existence. 

The  truth  is,  that,  from  the  beginning  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  the  popular  Spanish  drama  was  too 
strong  to  be  subjected  either  to  classical  criticism  or  to 
ecclesiastical  control.  In  the  "  Amusing  Journey  "  of 
Roxas,  an  actor  who  travelled  over  much  of  the  coun- 
tr}'  in  1602,  visiting  Seville,  Granada,  Toledo,  Yalla- 
dolid,  and  many  other  places,  we  find  plays  acted 
everywhere,  even  in  the  smallest  villages,  and  the 
drama,  in  all  its  forms  and  arrangements,  accommo- 
dated to  the  public  taste  far  beyond  any  other  popular 
amusement.^^  In  1632,  Montalvan  —  the  best  author- 
ity on  such  a  subject  —  gives  us  the  names  of  a  crowd 
of  writers  for  Castile  alone  ;  and  three  j^ears  later, 
Fabio  Franchi,  an  Italian,  who  had  lived  in  Spain,  pu]j- 
lished    a  eulogy  on    Lope,   which  enumerates  nearl}' 

^1  Roxas  (1602)  gives  an  amusing  ac-  which  was  required  to  have  seventeen, 

count  of  the  nicknames  and  resources  (Viage,    Madrid,    1614,   12mo,    ff.    51- 

of  eight  different  kinds  of  strolling  com-  53.)     These  nicknames  and  distinctions 

panics   of  actors,   beginning  with   the  were  long  known  in  Spain.     Four  of 

hululu,  which  boasted  of  but  one  per-  them  occur  in  "  Estebanillo  Gonzalez," 

son,  and  going  up  to  the  full  coinpafiia,  1646,  c.  6. 


406 


THE    DRAMA    TRIUMPHANT. 


[Peuiod  IL 


thirty  of  the  same  dramatists,  and  shows  anew  how 
completely  the  countr}^  was  imbued  with  their  influ- 
ence. There  can,  therefore,  be  no  doubt,  that,  at  the 
time  of  his  death.  Lope's  name  was  the  great  poetical 
name  that  filled  the  whole  breadth  of  the  land  with  its 
glory,  and  that  the  forms  of  the  drama  originated  by 
him  were  established,  bejond  the  reach  of  successful 
opposition,  as  the  national  and  popular  forms  of  the 
drama  for  all  Spain.^^ 


^-  On  tlie  whole  subject  of  the  contest 
between  the  Church  and  the  theati'e, 
and  the  success  of  Lope  and  his  school, 
see  C.  Pellicer,  Origen,  Tom.  I.  pp. 
118-122,  and  142-157  ;  Don  Quixote, 
ed.  J.  A.  Pellicer,  Parte  II.  c.  11,  note; 
Roxas,  Viage,  1614,  passim  (f.  66,  im- 
ph'ing  that  he  wrote  in  1602)  ;  Montal- 
van,  Para'Todos,  1661,  p.  543;  Lope 
de  Vega,  Obras  Sueltas,  Tom.  XXI.  p. 
66  ;  and  many  other  parts  of  Vols.  XX. 
and  XXI.  ; — all  showing  the  triumph 
of  Lope  and  his  school.  A  letter  of 
Francisco  Cascales  to  Lope  de  Vega, 
published  in  1634,  in  defence  of  plays 
and  their  representation,  is  the  third 
in  the  second  decade  of  his  Epistles ; 


but  it  goes  on  the  untenable  ground, 
that  the  plays  then  represented  were 
liable  to  no  objection  on  the  score  of 
morals.  Ricardo  del  Tuiia  —  probabh- 
a  pseudonyme  for  Luis  Fen-er  y  Car- 
dona,  governor  of  Valencia,  to  whom, 
in  mj'  co[)y  of  the  "Comedias  de  Poe- 
tas  de  Valencia,"  1609,  that  volume  is 
dedicated  —  takes,  on  the  contrary,  in 
his  Pieface  to  the  second  volume,  1616, 
the  theatre  as  it  really  existed,  and 
defends  it  not  without  learning  and 
acuteness.  He  died  in  1641.  Bar- 
rera,  however,  maintains  that  Pedro 
Juan  de  Toledo  was  the  person  dis- 
guised under  the  name  of  Ricardo  de 
Tuna. 


*  CHAPTER    XXTT.  *  346 

CALDKRON.  HIS     LIKE     AND     VAHIOIIS     WORKS. PRAMAS     FAI.SKI.Y     ATTRIH- 

IITED    TO    HIM. HIS    SACRA.MENTAL   AUTOS. HOW    RKPKKSENTEU. THEIR 

CHARACTER. THE    DIVINE    ORPHEUS. GREAT    POI'lJLAIUTY    OF    SUCH    EX- 
HIBITIONS.  HIS   FUEL-LENGTH    RELIGIOUS  VLAYS. PURGATORY   OF    SAINT' 

PATRICK. DEVOTION     TO     THE     CROSS. WONDKK-WORKINU     MAGICIAN. 

OTHER    SIMILAR    I'LAYS. 

Turning  from  Lope  de  Vega  and  his  scliool,  wo  coine 
now  to  his  great  successor  and  rival,  Pedro  Calderon 
de  la  Barca,  who,  if  he  invented  no  new  form  of  the 
drama,  was  yet  so  eminently  a  poet  in  the  national 
temper,  and  had  a  success  so  brilliant,  that  he  must 
necessarily  fill  a  large  space  in  all  inquiries  concerning 
the  histor}'  of  the  Spanish  theatre. 

He  was  born  at  Madrid,  on   the    ITtli  of  January, 
1600  ;  ^  and  one  of  his  friends  claims  kindred  for  him  with 
nearly  all  the  old  kings  of  the  different  Spanish  mon- 
archies, and  even  with  most  of  the  crowned  heads 
of  his  time,  throughout  Europe.^     This  is*ab-    *  347 

1  Theie   lias   been    some   (liscus.sion,  tlie  poet's  birth  on  January  1st,  we  can- 

and  a  general  error,  about  the  date  of  not  now  even  conjecture. 
C'alderon's  birth  ;  but  in  a  rare  book,  '^  See  the  hiarned  genealogical  intro- 

en ti tied  "ObeliscoFunebre,"  published  duction  to  the    "  Obelisco    Fiinebre," 

in  his  honor,  by  his  friend  Caspar  Au-  jn.st  cited.     The  name  of  Caldrron,  a.s 

gustin   de  Lara,   (Madrid,    1684,    4to,)  its  author  tells  us,  came  into  the  fani- 

and  written  immediately  after  Cable-  ily  in  the  thirteenth  century,  M'hen  one 

ron's  death,  it  is  distinctly  stated,   on  of  its  i  mm  be  r,  being  jn-ematurely  born, 

the  authority  of  Calderon  himself,  that  was  supposed  to  be  dead,  but  was  as- 

he  was  liorn  January  17,  1600.     This  certained  to  be  alive  by  being  uncere- 

settles  all  doubts.      The  certificate  of  nioniously  thrown  into  a  caldron — cal- 

baptism   given   in    Baena,    "Hijos   de  chron  —  of  warm  water.     As  he  proved 

Madrid,"  Tom.    IV.   p.    228,   only  says  to  be  a  great  man,  and  was  much  fa- 

that    he    was    baptized    February    14,  vored    by   St.    Ferdinand   and   Alfonso 

1600;    but  why    that    ceremony,    con-  the  Wise,  his  nickname  became  a  name 

trary  to  (-ustom,  was  so  long  delayed,  of  honor,  and  live  caldrons  wqw,  from 

or  why  a  person  in  the  position  of  Vera  that  time,  borne  in  the  famih'  arms. 

Tassis  y  Villaroel,  who,  like  Lara,  was  The  additionni  surname  oi  Barca  came 

a  friend  I  )f  Calderon,  should  have  placed  in    latei',    with    an    estate  —  tsnlar  —  of 


408  PEDRO   CALDEROX  DE  LA  BARCA.  [Peiuud  II. 

surd.  But  it  is  of  consequence  to  know  that  his 
faiuih'  was  res|)ectal)le,  and  its  position  in  society 
t<nch  as  to  give  him  an  op]K)rtunit3'  lor  early  intellec- 
tual culture  ;  —  his  father  heing  Secretar}'  to  the  Treas- 
nry  Bo;ird  under  Philip  the  Second  and  Philip  the 
Third,  and  his  mother  of  a  nohle  famih",  that  came 
from  the  Low  Countries  long  before.  Perhaps,  how- 
ever, the  most  curious  circumstance  connected  with  his 
origin  is  to  be  found  in  the  fact,  that,  while  the  two 
masters  of  the  Spanish  drama.  Lope  de  Vega  and  Cal- 
deron,  were  both  born  in  Madrid,  the  families  of  both 
are  to  be  sought  for,  at  an  earUer  period,  in  the  same 
little  rich  and  beautiful  valle  v  of  Carriedo,  where  each 
^lossessed  an  ancestral  fief.'^ 

When  only  nine  years  old,  he  was  placed  under  the 
Jesuits,  and  from  them  received  instructions  which, 
like  those  Corneille  was  receiving  at  the  same  moment, 
in  the  same  way,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Pyrenees, 
imparted  their  coloring  to  the  whole  of  his  life,  and 
especially  to  its  latter  years.  After  leaving  the  Jesuits, 
he  went  to  Salamanca,  where  he  studied  with  distinc- 
tion the  scholastic  theology  and  philosophy  then  in 
fashion,  and  the  civil  and  canon  law.  But  when  he 
was  graduated  from  that  University  in  IGID,  he  was 
already  known  as  a  writer  for  the  theatre  ;  and  when 
he  arrived  at  Madrid,  he  seems,  probably  on  this  ac- 
count, to  have  been  at  once  noticed  by  some  of  those 

•one  of  the  house,  wlio  afterwards  per-  but,  especially,  see  the  different  facts 

ished,    fightini{  a<,'ainst  the    Moors  ;  in  about  t'aldeion   scattered   through  tlie 

conseipience  of  which,  a  ('astle,  a  gaunt-  dull  jirose   introduction  to   the  "  Obe- 

■3et,   and   tlu'.  motto,    /\>r  fa  fe  iDorin':,  lisco  Funebre,"  and  its  still  nioie  dull 

were  added  to  their  escut(tlieon,  which,  ])oetry.     The  l)iographical  sketdi  of  him 

thus  arranged,  constituted  the  not  in-  l)y  his  friend  Vera  Tassis  y  Villarod, 

api)ropriate    anus  of   the   poet    in    the  originally  jirefixeil  to  the  fifth  volunK- 

stn'enteenth  century.  of  liis  Coniedias,  and  to  be  found  in  the 

8  See  the  notice  of  Calderon's  father  first   volume   of   the   editions   since,    is 

in  Haena,  Tom.  I.  p.  oOfi  ;  that  of  f'al-  formal,    ])edantic,    and    unsatisfactory, 

(lerou  himself,  Tom.    IV.   p.  228  ;  and  like   most    notices   of  the  old  Spanisii 

that  of  I,ope  de  Vega,  Turn.  HI.  p.  '.i'jU  ;  authors. 


Chap.  XXII.]      PEDI{0  CALDERON  DE  LA  BARCA.  400 

perfsoiLs  about   tlie  court  who  could   Jx'st   ]))'ouiote  his 
ndvancement  and  success. 

lu  1020,110  entered,  with  the  leading  spirits  of  his 
time,  into  the  first  poetical  contest  opened  by  the  city 
of  Madrid  in  honor  of  San  Isidro,  and  received 
for  his  *  efforts  the  public  compliment  of  Lope  *  348 
de  Vega's  praise.^  In  1622,  he  appeared  at  the 
second  and  greater  contest  proposed  by  the  capital,  on 
the  canonization  of  the  same  saint ;  and  gained  —  all 
that  could  be  gained  by  one  individual  —  a  single 
prize,  with  still  further  and  more  emphatic  praises 
from  the  presiding  spirit  of  the  show.''  In  the  same 
year,  too,  when  Lope  published  a  considerable  voluitie 
containing  an  account  of  all  these  ceremonies  and 
rejoicings,  we  find  that  the  youthful  Calderon  ap- 
proached him  as  a  friend,  with  a  few  not  ungraceful 
lines,  which  Lope,  to  show  that  he  admitted  the  claim, 
prefixed  to  his  book.  But  from  that  time  we  entirely 
lose  sight  of  Calderon  as  an  author,  or  obtain  only 
uncertain  hints  of  him,  for  ten  years,  except  that  in 
1630  he  figures  in  Lope  de  Vega's  "  Laurel  of  Apollo," 
among  the  crowd  of  poets  born  in  Madrid.^ 

Much  of  this  interval  seems  to  have  been  filled  with 
service  in  the  armies  of  his  country.     At  least,  he  was 

*  His  sonnet  for  tliis  occasion  is  in  or  eight  poems  ofiered  by  Calderon  at 

T.ope  de  Vega,  Obrus  Sueltas,  Tom.  XI.  these  two  poetical  joustings  arc  valua- 

p.  432  ;  and  his  octavas  are  at  p.  491.  ble,  not  only  as  being  the  oldest  of  his 

Both   are  respectable   for   a   youth   of  works  that  remain  to  ns,  but  as  being 

twenty.     The  praises   of  Lope,  which  among  the  few  specimens  of  his  verse 

lire   unmeaning,    are  at  p.    59.3   of  the  that  we  have,  excejit  his  dramas.     C'er- 

same  volume.     Who  obtained  the  prizes  vantes,  in  his  Don  Quixote,  intimates 

at  this  festival  of  1620  is  not  known.  that,  at  such  poetical  contests,  the  first 

**  The  different  pieces  offered  by  Cal-  prize  was  given  from  jtcrsonal  iavoi',  or 

deron  for  the  festival  of  May  17,  1622,  from  regard  to  the  rank  of  the  aspirant, 

are  in    Lope  de  Vega,   Obras  Sueltas,  and  the  second  with  reference  only  to- 

Tom.  XII.  pp.  181,  239,  303,  363,  384.  the  merit  of  the  poem  pre.sented.     (Parte 

speaking  of  them.  Lope  (p.  413)  says,  II.  c.  18.)     Calderon  took,  on  this  oc- 

a  prize  was  given  to  "Don  Pedro  Cal-  casion,  only  the  third  prize  for  a  can- 

deron,  Avho,  in  his  tender  years,  earns  don ;  the  liist  being  given  to  Lope,  and! 

the  laurels  which  time  is  wont  to  pro-  the  second  to  Zaratc. 

duce  only  with  hoary  hairs."     The  sLv  •>  Silva  VII. 


410  PEDRO   CALDEKOX  DE  LA  BARCA.  [Period  II. 

ill  the  Milanese  in  1G2-3,  and  afterwards,  as  we  are 
told,  went  to  Flanders,  where  a  disastrous  war  was  still 
carried  on  with  unrelenting  hatred,  both  national  and 
religious.  That  he  was  not  a  careless  observer  of  men 
and  manners,  during  his  campaigns,  we  see  by  the  plots 
of  some  of  his  plays,  and  by  the  li\  ely  local  descrip- 
tions with  which  they  abound,  as  well  as  In*  the  char- 
acters of  his  heroes,  who  often  come  fresh  from  these 
same  wars,  and  talk  of  their  adventures  with  an  air  of 

reality  that  leaves  no  doubt  that  they  speak  of 
*  349     what   had  *  absolutely  happened.     But  we  soon 

find  him  in  the  more  apj^ropriate  career  of  let- 
tet\s.  In  1632,  Montalvan  tells  us  that  Calderon  was 
already  the  author  of  many  dramas,  which  had  been 
acted  with  applause  ;  that  he  had  gained  many  public 
prizes ;  that  he  had  written  a  great  deal  of  lyrical 
verse  ;  and  that  he  had  begun  a  poem  on  the  General 
Deluge.  His  reputation  as  a  poet,  therefore,  at  the 
age  of  thirty-two,  was  an  enviable  one,  and  was  fast 
rising.' 

A  dramatic  author  of  such  promise  could  not  be 
overlooked  in  the  reign  of  Phihp  the  Fourth,  especially 
when  the  death  of  Lope,  in  1G35,  left  the  theatre  with- 
out a  master.  In  1636,  therefore,  Calderon  was  for- 
mally attached  to  the  court,  for  the  purpose  of  furnish- 
ing dramas  to  be  represented  in  the  royal  theatres ; 
and  in  1637,  as  a  further  honor,  he  was  made  a  knight 
of  the  Order  of  Santiago.  His  very  distinctions,  how- 
ever, threw  him  back  once  more  into  a  military  life. 
When  he  was  just  well  entered  on  his  brilliant  career 
as  a  poet,  the  rel)ellion  excited  by  France  in  Catalonia 
burst  forth  with  great  violence,  and  all  the  members  of 

'  I'ara  ToJos,  ed.  1G61,  pp.  539,  540.     But  these  sketches  were  pieiiaieil  iu 
1632. 


Chap.  XXII.]      PEDKO  CALDEKOX  DE  LA  BARCA.  411 

the  four  great  military  orders  of  the  kingdom  were  re- 
quired, in  1640,  to  appear  in  the  field  and  sustain  the 
royal  authority.  Calderon,  like  a  true  knight,  pre- 
sented himself  at  once  to  fulfil  his  duty.  But  the  king 
was  so  anxious  to  enjoy  his  services  in  the  palace,  that 
he  was  willing  to  excuse  him  from  the  field,  and  asked 
from  him  yet  another  drama.  In  great  haste,  the  poet 
finished  his  '-  Contest  of  Love  and  Jealousy,"  ^  and 
then  joined  the  army;  serving  loyally  through  the 
campaign  in  the  body  of  troops  commanded  by  the 
Count  Duke  Olivares  in  person,  and  remaining  in  the 
field  till  the  rebellion  was  quelled. 

After  his  return,  the  king  testified  his  increased  re- 
gard for  Calderon  hy  giving  him  a  pension  of  thirty 
gold  crdwns  a  month,  and  by  employing  him  in 
the  arrangements  for  *  the  festivities  of  the  *  350 
court,  when,  in  1649,  the  new  queen,  Anna 
Maria  of  Austria,  made  her  entrance  into  Madrid. 
From  this  period,  he  enjoyed  a  high  degree  of  favor 
during  the  life  of  Philip  the  Fourth,  and  until  the 
death  of  that  Prince  had  a  controlling  influence  over 
whatever  related  to  the  drama,  writing  secular  and  re- 
ligious plays  for  the  theatres  and  autos  for  the  Church 
with  uninterrupted  applause. 

In  1651,  he  followed  the  example  of  Lope  de  Vega 
and  other  men  of  letters  of  his  time,  by  entering  a  re- 
ligious brotherhood  ;  and  the  king  two  years  afterwards 
gave  him  the  place  of  chaplain  in  a  chapel  consecrated 
to  the  "  New  Kings  "  at  Toledo  ;  —  a  burial-place  set 
apart  for  royalty,  and  richly  endowed  from  the  time 
of  Henry  of  Trastamara.     But  it  was  found  that  his 

^  It  has  been  said  that  Calderon  has  precise  title  is  to  be  found  among  his 

given  to  none  of  his  dramas  the  title  printed  works ;  but  it  is  the  last  but 

Vera  Tassis   assigns  to  this  one,   viz.  one  in  the  list  of  his  plaj^s  furnished  by 

"Certamen    de  Amor  y  Zelos."     But  Calderon  himself  to  the  Duke  of  Vera- 

this  is  a  mistake.     No  play  with  this  guas,  in  1680. 


412         PEDRO  CALDEROX  DE  LA  BARCA.    lPi:i:ioi.  IT. 

duties  there  kept  liiiii  too  iiiiicli  from  the  court,  to 
whose  entertainment  he  had  hecouie  important.  In 
1663,  therefore,  he  was  created  chapLain  of  honor  to 
the  king,  who  thus  secured  his  regular  presence  at 
Madrid  ;  though,  at  the  same  time,  he  was  permitted 
to  retain  his  former  place,  and  even  had  a  second 
added  to  it.  In  the  same  year,  he  became  a  Priest  of 
the  Congregation  of  Saint  Peter,  and  soon  rose  to  be 
its  head ;  an  office  of  some  importance,  which  he  held 
during  the  last  fifteen  years  of  his  life,  fulfilling  its 
duties  with  great  gentleness  and  dignity.^ 

This  accumulation  of  religious  benefices,  however, 
did  not  lead  him  to  intermit  in  any  degree  his  dramatic 
labors.  On  the  contrary,  it  Avas  rather  intended  to 
stimulate  him  to  further  exertion ;  and  his  fame  was 
now  so  great,  that  the  cathedrals  of  Toledo,  Granada, 
and  Seville  constantly  solicited  from  him  religious 
plays  to  be  performed  on  the  day  of  the  Corpus  Christi, 
—  that  great  festival,  for  which,  during  nearly  thirty- 
seven  years,  he  furnished  similar  entertainments  regu- 
larly, at  the  charge  of  the  city  of  Madrid.  For  these 
services,  as  well  as  for  his  services  at  court,  he  was 
richly  rewarded,  so  that  he  accumulated  an  ample 
fortune. 

After  the  death  of  Philip  the  Fourth,  which 
*  351  happened  *in  1665,  he  seems  to  have  enjoyed 
less  of  the  royal  ]-)atronage.  Charles  the  Sec- 
ond had  a  temper  very  different  froui  that  of  his  prede- 
cessor ;  and  Sol  is,  the  historian,  speaking  of  Calderon, 
with  reference  to  these  circumstances,  says  pointedly, 
"  He  died  without  a  Maecenas."  ^^     But  still  he  contin- 

^  "  He  kuew  how,"  says  Augustin  de  ^''  "Murio  sin  Mecenas."      Apioba- 

Lara,  "to  unite,  by  humility  and  pru-  cion  to  the  "Obelisco,"  dated  October 

deuce,  the  duties  of  an  obedient  child  30,  1683.     All  that  relates  to  Calderon 

and  a  loving  father."  in  this  very  rare  volume  is  important. 


Chap.  XXII.]      PEDEO   CALDERON  DE  LA  BARCA. 


413 


lied  to  write  us  before,  for  the  court,  and  for  the 
churches ;  and  retained,  through  his  whole  life,  the 
extraordinary  general  popularity  of  nis  best  years." 
He  died  in  1681,  on  the  25th  of  May,  — the  Feast 
of  the  Pentecost,  —  wdiile  all  Spain  was  ringing  with 
the  performance  of  his  autoSj  in  the  composition  of  one 
more  of  which  he  was  himself  occupied  ahuost  to  tlic 
last  moment  of  his  life.^^ 

The  next  day,  he  was  borne,  as  his  will  required, 
without  any  show,  to  his  grave  in  the  church  of  San 
Salvador,  by  the  Priests  of  the  Congregation  over  which 
he  had  so  long  presided,  and  to  which  he  now  left  the 
whole  of  his  fortune.  But  a  gorgeous  funeral  cere- 
mony followed  a  few  days  later,  to  satisfy  the  claims 
of  the  popular  admiration ;  and  even  at  Valencia, 
Naples,  Lisbon,  Milan,  and  Rome,  public  notice  was 
taken  of  his  death  by  his  countrymen,  as  of  a  na- 
tional calamity.^'^     A  monument  to   his  memory  was 


because  it  conies  from  a  friend,  and  was 
written,  — at  least  the  poetical  part  of 
it,  —  as  the  author  tells  us,  within  fifty- 
three  days  after  Calderon's  death. 

11  It  seems  probable  that  Calderon 
wrote  no  ]days  expressly  for  the  pub'ic 
stage  after  he  became  a  priest,  in  16.51, 
confining  himself  to  autos  and  to  "Co- 
medias  "  for  the  court,  which  last,  how- 
ever, were  at  once  transferred  to  the 
theatres  of  the  capital.  Thus  "La 
Fiera,  el  Rayo,  y  la  Piedra,"  a  drama 
which  lasted  seven  hours  on  its  first 
representation  at  the  palace,  was  imme- 
diately given  to  the  public  of  Madrid 
and  acted  thirty-seven  afternoons  con- 
secutively. It  may  be  hoped,  that,  the 
court  ceremonies  being  omitted,  the  city 
audiences  were  not  so  long  detained. 

12  "  Estava  un  auto  entonces  en  los 
fines,  como  su  autor."  (Obelisco,  Canto 
I.,  St.  22.  See  also  a  sonnet  at  the  end 
of  the  volume.)  Soli.s,  the  historian, 
in  one  of  his  letters,  says,  "Our  friend 
Don  Pedro  Calderon  is  just  dead,  and 
went  oft',  as  they  say  the  swan  does, 
singing  ;  for  he  did  all  he  could,  even 
when  he  was  in  immediate  danger,  to 
finish  the  second  auto  for  the  Corpus. 


But,  after  all,  he  completed  only  a  little 
more  than  half  of  it,  and  it  has  been 
finished  in  some  way  or  other  by  Don 
]\Ielchor  de  Leon."  (Cartas  de  N.  An- 
tonio y  A.  Soils,  publicadas  por  Mayans 
y  Siscar,  Leon  de  Fraucia,  1733,  12mo, 
p.  75.) 

Melchor  Fernandez  de  Leon  was  a 
well-known  dramatist  of  this  period, 
but,  by  no  means,  one  to  tread  in  the 
footsteps  of  Calderon. 

MacCarthy  says  that  the  Pleyto  Mat- 
rimonial was  left  unfinished  by  Calde- 
ron and  was  completed  by  Zamora,  as 
may  be  seen,  he  says,  in  Vol.  IV.  of 
the  Autos.  See  MacCarthy's  Myste- 
ries of  Corpus  Christi,  1857,  p.  104, 
note. 

1^  Lara,  in  his  "Advertencias,"  speaks 
of  "the  funeral  eulogies  printed  in  Va- 
lencia." Vera  Tassis  mentions  them 
also,  without  adding  that  they  were 
printed.  A  copy  of  them  would  be 
very  interesting,  as  they  were  the  work 
of  "the  illustrious  gentlemen"  of  the 
household  of  tlie  Duke  of  Veraguas, 
Calderon's  friend.  The  substance  of 
the  poet's  will  is  given  in  the  "Obelis- 
co," Canto  I.,  st.  32,  33. 


414  PEDIIO  CALDEKOX  DE  LA  BAKCA.  [Pekiui.  11. 

*  3-32     soon    *  erected    in    the    chureli   where    he    was 
buried  ;  but  in  1840  his  remains  M^ere  removed 
to    the    more   splendid   church   of   the   Atocha.  where 
they  now  rest.^* 

Calderon,  we  are  told,  was  remarkable  for  his  per- 
sonal Ijeauty,  which  he  long  preserved  b}'  the  serenity 
and  cheerfulness  of  his  spirit.  The  engravings  pub- 
lished soon  after  his  death  show,  at  least,  a  strongly 
marked  and  venerable  countenance,  to  which  in  fancy 
Ave  may  easilj^  add  the  brilliant  eye  and  gentle  voice 
o-iven  to  him  bv  his  friendlv  eulo*':ist,  while  in  the 
ample  and  finely  turned  brow  we  are  reminded  of 
that  with  wh^cli  we  are  familiar  in  the  portraits  of  our 
own  cjreat  dramatic  poet.^^  His  character,  throiio-liout, 
seems  to  have  been  benevolent  and  kindly.  In  his  old 
age,  Ave  learn  that  he  used  to  collect  his  friends  round 
him  on  his  birthday's,  and  tell  them  amusing  stories  of 
his  childhood  ;  ^"^  and  during  the  Avhole  of  the  active 
part  of  his  life,  he  enjoyed  the  regard  of  many  of  the 
distinguished  persons  of  his  time,  Avho,  like  the  Count 

1*  An  account  of  the  first  monument  <le  Alfaio,  or  from  some  other,  1  do  not 

and  its  inscrijition  is  to  be  found  in  know.     Those  by  the  two  first,   how- 

Baena,  Tom.  IV.  p.   231  ;  and  an  ac-  ever,  are  likelj- to  have  been  the  best, 

count  of  the  removal  of  the  poet's  ashes  Stirling's  Artists  of  Spain,  Vol.  II.  p. 

totheconventof"  Our  Lady  of  Atocha"  803;  A^ol.  III.  p.  1116. 
is   in    the    Ft)reign    Quarterly   Keview,  Since  the  above  was   published,    in 

April,  1S41,  p.  227.     An  attempt  to  do  1849,  a  gay  description  of  himself  by 

still  further  honor  to  the  memory  of  Calderon   has   been   found   and   jirint- 

Calderon  was  made  by  the  publication  ed.     (Bib.  de  Autores  Espanoles,  Tom. 

of  a  life  of  him,  and  of  poems  in  his  XXIV.,   1853,   p.  585.)     It  is  thrown 

honor  by  Zamacola,   Zorrilla,   Hartzen-  into  the  form  of  a  ballad,  and,  although 

busch,  etc.,   in  a  folio  pamphlet,   2^Ia-  the  only  copy  of  it  known  to  exist  is 

drid,  1840,  as  well  as  by  a  subscription.  imperfect,  it  is  very  curious.     He  ad- 

1^  His  fine  capacious  forehead  is  no-  dresses  it  to  a  lady,  and  countenances 

ticed  by  his  eulogist,  and  is  obvious  in  his  claim  to  a  very  proud  ancestry,  but 

the  prints  of  1682  and  1684,  which  little  not  one  so  proud  as  Lara  afterwards  set 

resemble  the  copies  made  from  them  by  up  for  him  ;  —  alludes  to  the  remarka- 

later  engravers  :  —  ble  ])rominence  of  his  forehead,  so  ob\-i- 

Conriderava  de  su  rostro  prave  ous  in  the  old  prints  ;  — says  he  is  of  a 

Lora/xizih  la/rnuf,\a.vivaui.  middle  stature  and  of  a  i)ale  complex- 

D^l^%t"J'te^"'""'"*'^  j«»'  tliat  '>e  takes  no  snuff,  and  that 

'                 Canto  I.,  St.  41.  the  lio])e  of  a  prize  at  the  Festival  of 

A\Tiether  either  of  the  prints  referred  ^f"  I^^'?  ^^^^^^  ^  po^t  of  him.     It  is  a 

to  is  made  from  a  portrait  of  Cald.-ron  P";?*^"  V'*^    ^^f''-« .-.,    ,•        ,. 

by  Alonso  Cano,  or  from  one  bv  Juan  "  Prologo  to  the      Obehsco. 


<_'HA1'     XX  11.  J 


CALDEIIOX  S    WORKS. 


410 


Duke  Olivares  and  the  Duke  of  Veraguas,  seem  to 
have  been  attracted  to  liini  rjuite  as  much  by  the  gen- 
tleness ol'  his  nature  as  ])y  his  genius  and  fame. 

In  a  Hfe  thus  extending  to  above  fourscore 
years,  *  nearly  the  whole  of  which  was  devoted  *  353 
to  letters,  Calderon  produced  a  large  number  of 
works.  Except,  however,  a  panegj^ric  on  the  Duke  of 
Medina  de  Rioseco,  who  died  in  1647,  and  a  single 
\olume  of  mitos,  which  is  said  to  have  been  printed  iu 
1676,  and  of  which  there  is  •  certainly  an  edition  in 
1690,  he  published  hardly  anything  of  what  he 
wrote  ;  ^'    and   yet,  beside   several  longer  works,^*  he 


1''  The  account  of  the  entrance  of  the 
new  queen  into  Madrid,  in  1649,  writ- 
ten by  Calderon,  was  indeed  priutetl  ; 
but  it  was  under  the  name  of  Loreneo 
Ramirez  de  Prado,  who,  assisted  by 
('alderon,  arranged  the  festivities  of  the 
occasion. 

^*  The  unpublished  works  of  Calde- 
ron, as  enumerated  by  Vera  Tassis,  Ba- 
ena,  and  Lara,  are  :  — 

(1.)  "Discurso  de  los  Quatro  No^'isi- 
mos  "  ;  or  what,  in  the  technics  of  his 
theology,  are  called  the  four  last  things 
to  be  thought  upon  by  man  ;  viz.  Death, 
.ludgment.  Heaven,  and  Hell.  Lara 
says  Calderon  read  him  three  hundred 
octave  stanzas  of  it,  and  proposed  to 
complete  it  in  one  liundred  more.  It 
is,  no  doftbt,  lost. 

(2.)  "  Tratado  defendiendo  la  Ko- 
bleza  de  la  Pintura."  It  is  probable 
that  thfs  Defence  of  Painting  was  a 
"  Deposicion  "  of  eighteen  pages  made 
l)y  Calderon  to  the  I'mciinuhir  de.  (Ui- 
iiuvra,  in  order  to  defend  the  professors 
of  the  art  from  a  sort  of  military  con- 
scrii)tion  with  whiidi  they  were  threat- 
ened. At  any  rate,  this  curious  docu- 
ment, of  which  I  find  no  other  notice, 
is  printed  in  the  "  Cajou  de  Sastre  lite- 
rato,  ec,  por  Don  Francisco  Mariano 
Xifo,  or  Nipho,"  (Tom.  IV.,  1781,  pp. 
"Ih,  s(|(|.,)  —  a  confused  collection  of  ex- 
tracts, sometimes  rare  and  interesting, 
and  sometimes  quite  worthless,  from 
-Sjjanish  authors  of  the  earlier  times, 
nii.ved  up  with  odds  and  ends  of  the 
]iersonal  ()|iiiiii)ns  and  faiicii's  of  Schoi' 
♦  Nipho   liinisi'lf,    wlio   was   a   translator 


and  hack  writer  of  the  reigns  of  Ferdi- 
nand VI.  and  Charles  III. 

(3.)  "  Otro  tratado,  Defensa  de  la 
Comedia." 

(4.)  "  otro  tratado,  sobre  el  Diluvio 
General."  The  last  two  tnitados  were 
j)robably  poems,  like  the  "Discurso." 
At  least,  that  on  the  Deluge  is  men- 
tioned as  such  l)y  Montalvan  and  by 
Lara. 

(5.)  "  Lagi-imas,  que  vieit(!  un  Alma 
arrepentida  a  la  Hora  de  la  Muerte." 
This,  however,  is  not  unpublished, 
though  so  announced  by  Vera  Tassis. 
It  is  a  little  poem  in  the  ballad  meas- 
ure, which  I  detected  first  in  a  singular 
volume,  where  probablyit  first  appeared, 
entitled  "Avisos  para  la  Muerte,  e.scn'i- 
tos  por  algunos  Ingenios  de  Espaua  a 
la  Devocion  de  Bernardo  de  Oviedo, 
Secretario  de  su  Majestad,  oc,  publi- 
cados  por  D.  Luis  Arellano,"  Valencia, 
1634,  18mo,  90  leaves  ;  reprinted,  Zara- 
goza,  1648,  and  often  besides.  It  con- 
sists of  the  contributions  of  thirty  poets, 
among  whom  are  no  less  personages 
than  Luis  Velez  de  Guevara,  Juan  Pe- 
rez de  Montalvan,  and  Lojie  de  Vega. 
The  burden  of  Calderon's  ])oem,  which 
is  given  with  his  name  attacdied  to  it, 
is  "  ()  dulce  Jesus  mio,  no  entres,  Senoi', 
con  vuestro  siervo  en  juicio  ! "  and  a 
translation  of  it  ma^  be  found  in  Car- 
dinal Diepenbrock's  "  Geistliche  Blu- 
menstrau.s,"  1852,  p.  186.  The  two 
following  stanzas  are  a  favorable  speci- 
men of  th(>  whole  :  — 

0  quanto  el  imcfv,  O  quanto, 
Al  uiorir  e.s  pareciJo  1 


416 


cald£ijon  s  i)KA:-i:i.3. 


[Peiuod  11 


*  0'j4  prepared  for  the  academies  *  of  whieli  he 
was  a  member,  and  for  the  poetical  festivals 
and  joustings  then  so  common  in  Spain,  a  great  inim- 
ber  of  odes,  songs,  ballads,  and  other  poems,  which  gave 
him  not  a  little  of  his  fime  with  his  contemporaries.^^ 
Plis  brother,  indeed,  printed  some  of  his  full-length 
dramas  in  lGo-3  and  1()3T  ;'"''  but  we  are  expressly  told, 
although  the  fact  is  doubtful,  that  Calderon  himself 
never  sent  any  of  them  to  the  press  ;  -^  and  even  in 
the  case  of  the  (udos^  where  he  deviated  from  his  estab- 
lished custom,  he  says  he  did  it  unwillingly,  and  only 
lest  their  sacred  character  should  l)e  impaired  hj  im- 
perfect and  surreptitious  publications. 

For  fort3'-eight  years  of  his  life,  however,  the  j^ress 
teemed  with  dramatic  works  bearing  his  name  on  their 
titles.  As  early  as  1633,  they  began  to  appear  in  the 
popular  collections  ;  but  many  of  them  were   not  his. 


Pues,  8i  naoinios  llorando, 
Llorando  tambien  morimos 
O  dulcc  Jesus  mio,  etc. 

Un  geniido  la  priniera 
Salva  fue  que  al  niiindo  hizimos, 
V  el  ultimo  vale  que 
Le  hawnios  cs  un  jremido. 
O  dulce  Jesus  mio,  etc. 

How  much  resembles  here  our  birth 

The  final  hour  of  all ! 
Wccpiufr  at  first  we  see  the  earth, 
And  wcfpinjr  hear  Death's  call. 
O.  spare  nie.  Jesus,  sjiare  me,  Saviour  dear, 
Xor  meet  thy  servant  as  a  Judge  severe  I 

When  first  we  entered  this  dark  world, 

A\'e  hailed  it  with  a  moan  : 
And  when  we  leave  its  confines  dark. 
Our  farewell  is  a  proan. 
O,  spare  me,  Jesus,  spare  me,  Saviour  dear, 
Nor  meet  thy  servant  as  a  Judge  severe  I 

Tlie  whole  of  the  little  volume  in  wliiL-h 
it  occurs  may  serve  to  illustrate  Span- 
ish manners,  in  an  age  wlien  a  gentle- 
man of  condition  and  a  courtier  sought 
spiritual  comfort  by  such  means  and  in 
such  sources. 

Fifteen  miscellaneous  poems  of  Cal- 
deron—  eight  of  wliich  I  had  already 
known  sepai-atcly  —  have  Iwen  hrought 
together .  since  the  jn-eccding  account 
was  first  published  in  1849,  and  may 
now  be  found  in  the  Biblioteca  de  Au- 


tores  Espaiiole.s,  Tom.  XI Y.,  1850,  pp. 
724,  ec,  and  Tom.  XXIV.,  1853,  p.  585. 
I^ut  they  can  be  only  a  .small  portion 
of  what  ('ahleron  wiote  ;  —  proliably 
only  a  small  portion  of  what  he  printed 
anonymously  or  circulated  in  manu- 
script after  the  fashion  of  his  time.  Of 
one  of  them,  entitled  Psalle  et  Sile, 
from  an  inscri])tion  in  the  choir  of  the 
cathedral  at  Toledo,  I  found  a  copy  of 
the  original  edition,  with  the  jiproba- 
don,  dated  December  31,  1661,  in  the 
Hof  Bibliothek  at  Vienna. 

'^  Lara  and  Vera  Tassis,  both  per- 
sonal fiiends  of  Calderon,  .speak  of  the 
number  of  these  miscellanies  as  very 
great. 

^  There  were  four  volumes  in  all, 
and  Calderon,  in  his  Preface  to  the 
Autos,  1690,  .seems  to  admit  their  gen- 
uineness, though  he  abstains,  with  aj)- 
parent  caution,  from  directly  declaring 
it,  lest  he  should  seem  to  imply  that 
their  publication  had  ever  been  author- 
ized by  him. 

^^  "All  men  well  know,"  says  Lara, 
"that  Don  Pedro  never  .sent  any  of  his 
comcdlos  to  tlie  press,  and  that  tliose 
which  were  ]>nnted  were  iirintcd  against 
his  will."     Obeli-sco,  Prologo.  J| 


•CiiAi-.  XXII.] 


CALDERON  S    DRAMAS. 


417 


•and  the  rest  were  so  disCi^-ured  by  the  imperfect  man- 
ner in  which  they  liad  been  written  down  during  their 
representations,  that  he  says  he  could  often  hardly 
recognize     them     hiuiself. "       His    editor    and   friend, 


2-  The  publication  of  ( 'aldcion's  jilays 
in  tlu;  earliest  editions  ol'  them  is  a 
matter  of  im])ortance  whieh  has  never 
been  cleared  uj),  ])robably  in  conse- 
quence of  its  obscurity  and  difficulty. 
1  will,  tlu'refore,  enileavor  to  do  it  as 
far  as  I  can  iV(jm  the  mateiials  in  ni}' 
possession. 

The  first  play  of  f'alderon  that  I 
know  to  have  been  printed  is  "  Kl  As- 
troloj^o  Fingido,"  which  I  possess  in 
the  very  rare  "Comeilias  tie  diferentes 
Aiitores,"  (Tom.  XXV.,  Zaragoi;a, 
1633,)  with  a  Liceneia  of  1632,  when 
its  author  was  thirty-two  years  old. 
In  the  table  of  contents  it  is  called  "  El 
Amante  Astrologo,"  and  in  the  dedica- 
tion of  it  to  Fran.  Ximenez  de  Urrea, 
Pedro  Escuer,  the  editor,  says  that  he 
had  taken  great  pains  to  print  it  from 
a  good  copy  ;  —  an  assertion  which  the 
text  he  has  given  hardly  justifies. 

Three  more  ]>lays  of  Calderon  appear 
in  Tom.  XXVI II.  of  the  .same  collection, 
edited  b_y  Escuer,  Huesca,  1634.  These 
three  plays  are,  —  (1.)  "La  Industria 
<jontra  el  Poder,"  which  is  here  ascribed 
to  Lope  de  Vega,  but  which  is  really 
<'aldeion's  "Amor,  Honor  y  Poder"  ; 
(2.)  "De  un  Castigo  tres  Venganzas," 
now  called  "  Un  Castigo  en  tres  Vengan- 
zas"; and  (3.)  "  La  Cruz  en  la  Sepul- 
tura,"  which  is  a  first  and  very  inferior 
recension  of  the  well-known  "  Devocion 
lie  la  Cruz."     I  have  this  volume  also. 

Again,  three  plays  of  Calderon  occur 
in  Vol.  XXX.  of  the  "Comedias  de 
difenmtes  Autores,"  which,  as  my  copy, 
though  otherwise  perfect,  lacks  its  title- 
page,  I  learn  oulj'  from  Bellingliaus(ui 
(p.  21)  was  ))rinted  at  Zaragoza  in  1636. 
The  three  plays  referred  to  are,  -  (1.) 
"  La  Dama  Duende,"  (2.)  "  La  Vida  es 
Sueno,"  and  (3.)  "El  Privilegio  de  las 
Mujeres,"  which,  as  here  given,  he 
wrote,  according  to  Hartzenbusch,  with 
Montalvan  and  Coello,  and  which,  in 
this  form,  is  the  original  sketch  of  the 
"Armas  de  la  Hermo.sura." 

One  play  only  can  be  found  in  Vol. 

XXXL,  Barcelona,  1638,   f.   22,    "Con 

i(uien  vengo  vengo,"  where  it  appears, 

like  the  other  plays  in  this  volume,  witli- 

voi,.   II.  27 


out  his  name.  l>ut  it  is  his.  Hart- 
zenbusch gives  it  the  date  of  1639.  Of 
course  this  is  a  mistake  of  a  year  at  least. 

Foui'  plays  of  Calderon  appear  in  Vol. 
XLII.,  Zarag09a,  16.50,  viz.  :  (1.)  "No 
ay  P)urlas  con  el  Amor,"  (2.)  "El  Se- 
creto  a  Voces,"  and  (3.)  "El  Pintor  d(> 
su  Deshoni'a"; — but  "Del  Key  abajo 
Ninguno "  is  also  attributed  to  him, 
though  everybody  knows  it  belongs  to 
Roxas,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  (4.)  his 
"  Hija  del  Ayre  "  is  attributed  to  Ant. 
Enri([uez  Gomez. 

One  play  only  is  to  be  found  in  Vol. 
XLIIL,  Zaragoza,  1650,  published  by 
Escuer,  viz.  "  La  Desdicha  de  la  Voz." 

How  many  more  there  may  be  by 
Calileron  in  this  collection,  de.signated 
as  the  Diferentes  C^omedias,  it  is  not 
possible  to  ascertain,  as  so  few  of  its 
volumes  are  known  to  exi.st.  No  doubt 
thei'(!  were  others  besides  those  I  have 
enumerated. 

But  in  1652  began  tin;  collection  of 
the  Comedias  Escogidas,  better  known 
than  the  last,  but  still  troublesomely 
rare.  In  the  very  first  volume,  pub- 
lished in  that  year,  are  three  ]ilays  of 
Calderon,  to  the  publication  of  which 
it  seems  as  if  he  must  have  directly  as- 
sented, since  his  Aprovaciun,  dated  18 
May,  1652,  is  the  first  thing  in  the 
volume.  This,  however,  is  only  the 
beginning.  Forty-six  more  volumes  of 
this  new  collection  appeared  during  his 
lifetime,  and  contain  forty-eiglit  plays 
attributed  to  him,  many  of  them  not 
his,  and  almost  all  full  of  errors,  ad- 
ditions, and  oversights.  But  two  de- 
serve especial  notice,  viz.  "  Las  Armas 
de  la  Hermosura,"  and  "La  Sehora  y 
la  Criada,"  the  last  now  known  as  "EI 
Acaso  y  el  Error."  They  are  in  Vol. 
XLVL,  1679,  and  Vera  Tassis,  the 
frientl  of  Cahh^ron,  in  his  Advertencia 
to  the  Comedias  de  Calderon,  Tom.  V.. 
1694,  .says  that  Calderon  himself  gave 
thenr  to  him.  Vera  Tassis,  to  be  jjrinted, 
anil  corrected  their  proof-sheets.  We 
have,  therefore,  these  two  plays  at  least 
exactly  as  Calderon  prepared  them,  and 
on  his  own  authority. 

But  while,'  in   both  these  larger  col- 


418 


CALDERON  S    DRAMAS. 


[Pkfmoi.  IL 


355    *  Vera     Tas!<is,    u-ivos     several     lists    of    plays, 
amounting    in    all    to    a    liundred    and    fifteen, 


If.itiou.s,  as  wi'U  as  in  otluTs  of  less 
jiretensioii,  separate  i)lays  of  Caldcrou 
were  eonstaiitly  reininted  duriug  his 
lifetime,  often  in  the  most  lawless  man- 
ner, au  attempt  was  made  to  publish 
them  together  in  a  way  that  should 
give  them  the  semljlance,  at  least,  if 
not  the  substance,  of  their  author's  au- 
thority. Two  volumes  were  published 
for  this  purpose  by  his  brotlun-  Joseph. 
( )f  the  hrst,  which  1  have  never  .seen, 
but  which  appeared  in  1635,  the  ac- 
counts are  very  indistinct ;  but  it  prob- 
ably contained  the  same  i)lays  with 
the  first  volume  of  tlie  collection  by 
Vera  Tassis,  printed  in  1685.  (Hart- 
zenbusch,  Tom.  IV.,  ]>.  654.)  The 
-second  volume,  jiublished  by  the  same 
person,  appeared  in  1637.  I  possess  it, 
and  the  plays,  though  not  exactly  in 
the  same  order,  ai'e  the  same  ]days  with 
those  published  by  Vera  Tassis  as  his 
Volume  II.,  ill  1656.  There  is  a  second 
edition  of  this  second  volume,  JIadrid, 
1641,  of  which  1  found  a  cojjy  in  the 
Magliabecchi  Library,  Florence.  In 
1664,  a  third  volume  a]>peared,  pre- 
jiared  by  Ventura  y  Vergara,  and  in 
1672,  Vol.  IV.,  with  a  letter  pieO.xed 
by  himself,  and  a  list  of  foit}--one  ]ilays 
jiuVdished  as  his,  which  he  repudiates. 
■  Ami  finally,  in  1677,  a  fifth  volume 
was  published  at  Barcelona,  of  whose 
ten  plays  he  denies  four  in  the  Preface 
to  the  only  volume  of  nntos  he  ever  pub- 
lished, but  of  which  four  I  suppose  two 
are  really  his,  notwithstanding  his  de- 
nial. 

And  here  the  matter  rested  until  after 
f'alderon's  death  in  1681.  Then  Vera 
Tassis  y  Villaroel,  who  calls  himself 
"his  best  fiiend,"  —  hu  mayor  aviujo, 
—  took  it  up  in  earnest,  not  later  than 
1682,  as  we  sei^;  by  t\w.  aprovac tones  and 
liccnclas  to  his  publications  of  the  Co- 
'incdi((.s.  At  first  he  seems  to  have  as- 
sumed that  the  five  volumes  noted 
above  as  printed  during  C'alderon's  life 
might  be  deemed  of  sufficient  authority 
to  constitute  the  foundation  of  his  own 
(collection,  for  lie  began  it  in  1683  by 
]»rinting  a  si.rth  volume  witii  fiprocdci- 
iinfs,  etc.,  of  1682,  and  among  tliem  the 
famous  one  of  Gueira,  14  April,  1682, 
(.see  jiost..  Chap.  XXIV.,  note,)  which 
he  took  the  tioubh;  to  ic]irint  in  his 
Vol.    v.,    1694,    and    which    excited    a 


long  controveisv.  (See  post,  Chaii. 
XX iV.)  This  Vol.  VI.  he  followed 
uj)  witli  Vol.  VII.  the  .same  j-ear,  1683, 
and  with  Vol.  VIII.  in  1684.  But  he 
now  a2)parentl}r  became  dissatisfied  with 
the  five  volumes  printed  earlier  by  Cal- 
deron's  brother  an<l  other  jiersons,  and 
in  1685  he  jiublished  a  new  Vol.  I., 
containing,  I  think,  the  plays  in  that 
of  1635,  with  their  licfncia  of  that  date. 
In  1686  he  went  on  with  Vol.  II.,  which 
contains  the  plays  in  the  Vol.  II.  of 
1637,  tiiough  in  a  difierent  order ;  but 
it  should  be  noted  that  the  "Mayor 
jMonstruo  del  Jiiindo "  is  now  much 
altereil  and  il»T]>roved.  In  1687  he 
continued  with  Vol.  111.,  saying  that 
Ventura  de  la  V^ega  had  indeed  already 
published  it  "con  la  vaua  ostcntacion 
de  amigo  de  nucstro  Don  Pedro,"  but 
that  his  edition  was  very  incoriect,  and 
in  one  play  omitted  two  hundred  verses. 
In  1688,  lie  furtiier  published  Vol.  IV., 
and  in  1691,  \'ol.  IX.,  l(Ut  with  aprova- 
ciones  of  1682,  showing  that  he  had, 
from  the  first,  made  arrangements  for 
publishing  the  entire  collection  of  hi.s 
friend's  C'oincdias.  And,  finally,  in 
1694,  he  went  back  again  in  the  series 
and  printed  a  fresh  Vol.  V.,  calling  it 
"  La  cerdadcra  (piinta  Parte,"  to  dis- 
tinguish it  from  the  one  Caldcrou  had 
repudiated,  and  giving  in  his  Preface 
a  list  of  one  hundred  and  twenty-one 
plays  rightfully  ascribed  to  Calderon, 
and  a  list  of  one  hundred  and  six  plays 
faLselj'  a.scribed  to  him.  These  nine 
volumes,  thus  irregularly  published  by 
Vera  Tassis  between  1683  and  1694  are 
to  Calderon  what  the  first  folio  edition 
of  his  ]>lays  is  to  ii^akespeare  ;  and  to 
eight  of  the  nine  in  my  copy  of  them 
is  ])refixed  a  head  of  Calderon  engi'aved 
in  1682,  by  Fo.ssmann,  whom  Stirling 
iegaids  (]).  1053)  as  jiei'haps  the  best 
engravei-  of  the  time  of  Charles  II. ,  antl 
who.st!  engraving  of  Calderon  is,  I  think, 
better,  and  from  a  ditferent  and  more 
agieeable  likeness,  than  that  of  Eber- 
hard  in  the  Obeli.sco  Funebre,  1684. 

These  materials  —  but  above  all  tlie 
edition  of  Vera  Ta.ssis — con.stitute  the 
jirojicr  foundation  for  researches  respect- 
ing the  C'liiiicduiN  of  Caldeion.  A  very 
bad  reprint  of  this  edition  ajipearcd  at 
Madiid  in  1723-1726,  in  nine  vohimes, 
and   a   lietter  one   by   Apontes,    1760- 


CiiAP.   XXII.] 


CALDERON  S    DKA:MA8. 


419 


priiitud    by   tlio    cupidity   of    *  the    booksellers     *  35G 
MS  Calderon's,  without  having  any  claim  what- 
soever to  that  honor  ;  and  he  adds,  that  many 
others,  *  which  Calderon  had  never  seen,  were    *  357 
sent  from  Seville  to  the  Spanish  possessions  in 
America.^^ 

By  means  like  these,  the  confusion  became  at  last  so 
great,  that  the  Duke  of  Veraguas,  then  the  honored 
head  of  the  family  of  Columbus,  and  Captain-General 


1763,  in  eleven  volumes,  which  in  its 
turn  was  eclipsed  by  a  thinl  very  care- 
fully prei)ared  hy  an  acconiplishetl  Span- 
ish .scholar,  J.  J.  Kcil,  of  Leipzig,  who 
j)ublishe(l  it  in  that  city  in  four  large 
octavos  in  1827-1830.  Occasionally, 
from  the  eailiest  times,  single  plays  of 
Calderon  have  been  printed,  much  like 
the  old  ipiartos  of  Shakespeare,  and 
exactly  such  as  were  jiublished  of  all 
the  Spanish  dramatists  down  to  the 
beginning  of  the  present  centur}',  and 
indeed  pretty  well  into  it.  Selections, 
too,  were  made  b)'^  Huerta,  Ortega, 
Ochoa,  and  others.  But  all  this  was 
iinsatisfactory. 

At  last  J.  E.  Hartzenbu.sch,  to  whom 
Spanish  literature  owes  much  in  many 
ways,  undertook  an  edition  for  Kivade- 
neyra,  and  published  it  in  the  Biblioteca 
lie  Autores  Espaholes  (Tom.  VIl.,  IX., 
XII.,  XIV.,  1848-1850),  leaving  noth- 
ing to  be  asked,  if  we' consider  the  state 

i  of  the  materials  for  such  a  work  as  he 
found  them,  and  not  much  to  be  hoped 
from  future  r(!seandies.  He  gives  us 
one  hundred  and  twenty-two  Comedias, 

■  including  ten  either  known  to  have  been 
partly  written  by  Calderon,  or  believed 
to  be  so  on  satisfactory  evidence.  Nine 
plays,  however,  which  are  in  Calderon's 
own  li.st  of  1680,  still  remain  to  be  ac- 
counted for  ;  but  we  have  now  in  Hart- 
zenbusch's  edition  four  not  mentioned 
there,  and  not  in  yn-evious  collections. 
This  is  something,  but  moie  may  ])er- 
haps  yet  be  discovered,  and  mon^  cer- 
tainly should  be  sought  for.  In  ad- 
dition to  the  Comedias,  Hartzenbusch 
gives  us  fifteen  Entrenieses,  Mqjigaiigas, 
and  Jacaras  Entremesadas  attributed  to 
Calderon,  I  fear  on  slight  authority, 
and  to  which,  on  authority  not  better, 
I  could  add  one  more  ciihxmes  in  my 
possession,  said,  on  its  title-page,  to  be 


his  work,  viz.  "  Pelicano  y  Katon." 
Hut  all  of  them  have  little  value,  and 
fail  to  satisfy  the  expectations  excited 
by  the  Graciosos  in  his  full-length  Co- 
medias. I  need  not  add  that  the  edi- 
tion of  Hartzenbusch  is  by  far  the  best 
we  have  of  Calderon's  |)lays ;  —  the  mo.st 
ample  and  the  most  carefully  prepared, 
with  good  prefatoiy  matter  and  excel- 
lent appendices. 

1  hoi^e  he  will,  in  the  same  way,  edit 
the  autos,  which,  lieing  the  property  of 
the  city  of  Madrid  under  the  will  of 
their  author,  were  not,  for  a  long  time, 
permitted  to  be  published,  lest  the 
printed  copies  should  impair  the  effect 
of  the  annual,  popular  representations 
in  the  streets.  (Lara,  Pnilogo.)  (_'al- 
deron,  indeed,  collected  twelve  of  them 
ibr  jiublication  in  his  lifetime,  and  pre- 
])aied  a  preface  for  them  ;  but  although 
the  A]irovacion,  Licencia,  etc.,  are  dated 
1676,  1  have  never  seen  any  edition 
earlier  than  the  one  printed  at  JIadrid, 
161)0,  wliich  I  possess,  though,  I  doubt 
not,  there  was  one  of  1677,  nor  were 
more  than  these  twelve  published  till 
the  edition  of  1717  ajDpeared  in  six  vol- 
umes, of  which  there  is  a  tolerable 
reprint  by  Apontes,  1759-60.  They 
need  a  good  editor,  like  Hartzenbusch, 
and  would  well  reward  his  labors. 

-■^  Probably  several  more  may  be 
added  to  the  list  of  dramas  that  are 
attributed  to  Calderon,  and  yet  are  not 
his.  I  have  noted  "El  Garrote  mas 
bien  Dado,"  in  "  PjI  Mejor  de  los  me- 
jores  Libros  de  Comedias,"  1653,  4to, 
where  it  is  given  with  two  that  are 
genuine  ;  and  "  El  Escandalo  de  Gre- 
cia,"  which  is  in  Comedias  Escogida.s, 
Tom.  XL,  1659,  where,  at  the  end  of 
the  play,  (f.  176,  b, )  it  is  imi)udently 
announced  as  his  in  the  usual  form  of 
claiming  authorship  on  the  Sjianish  stage. 


420  CALDEROX's    DRAMAS.  [Peiiiod  II. 

of  the  kingdom  of  Valencia,  wrote  a  letter  to  Cakleron 
in  1()S0,  asking  for  a  list  of  his  dramas,  by  "which,  as  a 
friend  and  admirer,  he  might  venture  to  make  a  collec- 
tion of  them  for  himself  The  reply  of  the  poet,  com- 
phiining  bitterly  of  the  conduct  of  the  booksellers, 
■\vliicli  had  made  such  a  request  necessary,  is  accom- 
panied by  a  list  of  one  hundred  and  eleven  full-length 
dramas  and  seventy  sacramentjil  <ii>li>s.  which  he  claims 
as  his  own.-^  This  catalogue  constitutes  the  proper 
basis  for  a  knowledge  of  Calderon's  dramatic  works, 
down  to  the  present  day.  All  the  plays  mentioned  in 
it  have  not,  indeed,  been  found.  Nine  are  not 
*358  in  the  editions  of  Yera  *  Tassis,  in  1682,  of 
.  Apontes,  in  1760,  or  of  Hartzenbusch,  in  1850  ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  a  few"  not  in  Calderon's  list 
have  been  added  to  theirs  upon  what  has  seemed  suffi- 
cient authority;  so  that  we  have  now  seventy-three 
sacramental  auto^^  with  their  introductory  loas^  and 
one  hundred  and  eight  comcdias,  or — including  plays 
partly  his  —  one  himdred  and  twenty-two,  on  which 
his  reputation  as  a  dramatic  poet  is  at  present  to  rest.^^ 

2*  This  corrpspondence,  so  honorable  ^5  x\\  tij(,  ;o«s,  however,  are  not  Cal- 

to  Calderon,  as  well  as  to  the  head  of  deron's  ;  but  it  is  no  longer  possible  to 

the    family   of   Columbus,    who    signs  determine  which  are  not  so.      "  No  son 

himself  proudly.  El  Almircmte  Duquc,  todas  suyas"  is  the  phrase  aj.plied  to 

—  as  Columbus  himself  had  required  them  in  the  Prologo  of  the  edition  of 

his  descendants  always  to  sign  them-  1717. 

selves,  (Navarrete,  Tom.  II.  p.  229,)—  ^  Vera  Ta.ssis  tells  us,  indeed,  in  his 

is  to  be  found  in  tlie  "Obelisco,"  and  Life  of  Calderon,  that  Calderon  wi-ote 

again  in  Hiieita,    "Teatro  Hesi)rtri<)l,"  a    huntlred  sdi/netes,    or   short   farces; 

(Madrid,   1785,   12mo,    Parte   II.   Tom.  about   a  hundred  aufos  sucraincntales ; 

III.,)  and,  with  additions  by  Vera  Tas-  two  hundred  loas ;  and  more  than  one 

sis,    Comedias   de   Calderon,   Tom.    I.,  hundred  and  twenty  cowcrf/os.     But  he 

1685,  and  Tom.  V.,   K594.     The  com-  collected  for  his  edition  (1683-1694) 

])laints   of  Calderon    about   the   book-  only   the   comedias   mentioned   in    the 

sellers  are  very  bitter,  as  well  they  might  text,  and  thirteen  more,  intended  for 

be  ;  for  in  1676.  in  his   Preface'  to  his  an   a<lditional  volume   that   never  was 

nutos,  he  says  that  their  frauds  took  ]irinted.     See  notices  of  Calderon,  by 

away  from  tlie  hospitals  and  other  char-  F.  W.  V.  Schmidt,  in  the  Wiener  Jahr- 

ities  —  which  yet  received  onlv  a  small  biicher   der   Literatur,    Bande    XVII., 

part  of  the  profits  of  the  theatre  — no  XVIII.,  and  XIX.,  1822,   to  which   I 

less  tlian  twenty-si.x  thousand  ducats  am  much  indebted,  and  which  deserve 

annually.  to  be  printed  .scjiaiately,  and  preserved. 


CuAP.  XXII.]  CALDEKON'b    AUTOS.  421 

In  examining  tlii.><  large  mass  of  Calderon's  dramatic 
works,  it  will  be  most  convenient  to  take  first,  and  by 
themselves,  those  which  are  ([iiite  distinct  from  the 
rest,  and  which  alone  he  thought  worthy  of  his  care  in 
publication,  —  his  «?^/c.5' or  dramas  for  the  Corpus  Christ! 
day.  Nor  are  they  undeserving  of  this  separate  notice. 
There  is  little  in  the  dramatic  literature  of  any  nation 
more  characteristic  of  the  people  that  produced  it  than 
this  department  of  the  Spanish  theatre  ;  and,  among 
the  many  poets  who  devoted  themselves  to  it,  none 
had  such  success  as   Calderon. 

Of  the  early  character  and  condition  of  the  autos, 
and  their  connection  with  the  Church,  we  have  already 
spoken,  when  noticing  Juan  de  la  Enzina,  Gil  Vi- 
cente, Lope  de  Vega,  and  Valdivielso.  They 
*were,  from  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  cen-  *  359 
turies,  among  the  favorite  amusements  of  the 
mass  of  the  people  ;  but  with  the  period  at  which  we 
are  now  arrived,  they  had  gradually  risen  to  be  of 
great  importance.  That  the}^  were  spread  through 
the  whole  country,  even  into  the  small  villages,  we 
may  see  in  the  Travels  of  Agustin  Roxas,^'  who  played 
them  everywhere,  and  in  the  Second  Part  of  Don 
Quixote,    where    the    mad    knight    is   represented    as 

The  above  wi-sh,  expressed  in  the  first  to  a   careful   examination   of  tlie   one 

edition  of  this  work,  in  1849,  ])as  been  Imndred  and  eight  comcdms  in  the  edi- 

uiore  than  fultilled   by   the   following  tions  of  Vera  Tassis  and  Apontes  ;  to  a 

publication:    "Die  Sehauspiele  Calde-  .slight   inquiry   into   the  one   hundred 

ron'sdargestelltunderlautert  von  Fried.  and  six  plays  falsely  attributed  to  Cal- 

Wilh.  Val.  Schmidt  aus  gedrllcktcn  und  deron,  of  which  Vera  Tassis  gives  the 

ungedriickten  Papieren    des  Verfassers  titles   in    his  Verdadera  quinta   Parte, 

zusammengesetzt,   erganzt  und  heraus-  1694  ;  to  a  notice  of  a  few  of  Calderon's 

gegeben  von  Leopold  Schmidt,"  Elber-  auton ;  and  to  sueh  other  casual  inves- 

field,  1857,  8vo,  pp.  543.     The  editor  tigations  as. these  different  subjects  sug- 

is  the  son  of  the  author,  and  seems  to  gest.     It  is  carefully  edited,  with  a  few 

inherit  his  father's  taste  and  learning,  judicious  notes  and  additions  by  the 

giving  us  a  work  of  more  value  to  those  .son,  made  in  the  conscientious  spirit 

who  wish  to  make  a  critical  study  of  of  the  father. 

Calderon,  than  any  other  extant.     But  27  l{oxa.s,   Viage  Entretenido,    1614, 

it  .should  be  observed,  that  this  inqior-  ff.  51,  52,  and  many  other  places, 
tant  work  is  almost  entirely  confined 


422  CALDEROX's    AUTOS.  [rEuioP  JL 

meeting  a  car  that  was  carrying  the  actors  for  the 
Festival  of  the  Sacrament  from  one  hamlet  to  an- 
other.-^ This,  it  will  be  rememl^ered,  was  all  before 
1615.  During  the  next  thirty  years,  and  especially 
(luring  the  last  portion  of  Calderon's  life,  the  number 
and  consequence  of  the  autos  Avere  much  increased,  and 
they  were  represented  with  great  luxury  and  at  great 
expense  in  the  streets  of  all  the  larger  cities; — so 
important  were  they  deemed  to  the  influence  of  the 
clergy,  and  so  attractive  had  they  become  to  all 
classes  of  society, —  to  the  noble  and  the  cultivated  no 
less  than  to  the  multitude.^ 

In  Iboo,  when  they  were  at  the  heiirht  of  their  sue- 
cess,  Aarsens  de  Somerdyck,  an  accomplished  Dutch 
traveller,  gives  us  an  account  of  them  as  he  Avitnessed 
their  exhibition  at  Madrid.'^  In  the  forenoon  of  the 
festival,  he  says,  a  procession  occurred  such  as  we  have 
seen  was  usual  in  the  time  of  Lope  de  Vega,  m  here  the 
king  and  court  appeared,  without  distinction  of  rank, 
preceded  by  two  fantastic  figures  of  giants,  and  some- 
times by  the  grotesque  form  of  the  TdniHca,  —  one  of 
which,  we  are  told,  in  a  pleasant  story  of  Santos,  pass- 
ing by  night  from  a  place  where  it  had  been  exhibited 

the  preceding  day  to  one  where   it  Mas  to  be 
*  3G0    exhibited  the  day  *  following,  so  alarmed  a  body 

of  muleteers  Avho  accidentally  met  it,  that  the}- 
roused  up  the  country,  as  if  a  real  monster  were  come 

■•"  Don  Quixote,  eil.  Pcllicer,  Parte  rious,  with  Barbier,  Dictionimire  d'Auo- 
ll.  e.  11,  with  the  notes,  iiynies,   Paris,   1824,   8vo,  No.  19,281. 

■■^^  In  1640  and  1641,  and  probably  Tlie  ««to  which  the  Dutch  traveller  saw- 
in  other  years,  there  were  four  aulus  was,  no  doubt,  one  of  Calderon'.s  ;  since 
represented  in  the  streets  of  JIadrid,  (.'alderon  then,  and  for  a  long  time  be- 
duiing  the  festival  of  the  Corjius  Chiis-  fore  and  after,  furnish(;d  the  aii.tox  for 
ti  ;  and  in  the  last-mentioned  year  we  the  city  of  Madrid.  Jladame  d'Aulnoy 
an-  told  that  the  giants  and  the  taraaca  describes  the  same  gorgeous  ])roce.ssion 
had  new  dre.s.ses  in  good  ta.ste.  Schack,  a.s  .she  saw  it  in  1679,  (Voyage,  ed. 
Xachtrage,  18.o4,  pp.  72,  73.  1693,  Tom.  HI.  pp.  52- .^j5,)'with  the 

^'  Voyage  d'Espagne,  Cologne,  1667,  im])ertinent  <(uU),  as  .she  calls  it,  that 

18mo,  (Jliap.  XVIIl.,  which  is  vi-ry  cu-  was  perl'ornied  that  year. 


Chap.  XXII.]  CAIJ)P:KON's    AUTOS.  423 

among  them  to  la}^  waste  the  land.^^  These  missliapeii 
figures  and  all  tliis  strange  procession,  witli  music  of 
hautboys,  tambourines,  and  castanets,  with  banners  and 
with  religious  shows,  followed  the  sacrament  through 
the  streets  for  some  hours,  and  then  returned  to  the 
principal  church,  and  were  dismissed. 

In  the  afternoon  they  assembled  again  and  2)erformed 
the  uufos,  on  that  and  many  successive  days,  before  the 
houses  of  the  great  officers  of  state,  where  the  audience 
stood  either  in  the  balconies  and  windows  that  would 
command  a  view  of  the  exhibition,  or  else  in  the  streets. 
The  giants  and  the  Tarascas  were  there  to  make  sport 
for  the  multitude  ;  the  music  came,  that  all  might  dance 
who  chose ;  torches  were  added  to  give  effect  to  the 
scene,  though  the  performance  was  only  by  daylight ; 
and  the  king  and  the  royal  fiimily  enjoyed  the  exhi- 
bition, sitting  in  state  under  a  magnificent  canopy  in 
front  of  the  stage  prepared  for  it  at  least  once  near 
the  palace. 

As  soon  as  the  principal  personages  were  seated,  the 
loa  was  spoken  or  sung ;  then  came  a  farcical  cntremes  ; 
afterwards  the  auto  itself;  and  finally,  something  by 
way  of  conclusion  that  would  contribute  to  the  gen- 
eral amusement,  like  music  or  dancing.  And  this  was 
continued,  in  different  parts  of  the  city,  daily  for  a 
month,  during  which  the  theatres  were  shut  and  the 
regular  actors  were  employed  in  the  streets,  in  the 
service  of  the  Church .^"^ 

"^1    La   Veidad   en   el    Potro,    Madrid,  Mas  de  fijcuras  tnra.teax 

1(586,  1 -21110,  pp.  291,  292.      The  Dutch  No  hay  duda  que  son  fi-as. 

tiavellei'  had  heard  the  same  story,  but  0^'°"  '^^  Castalia,  1663,  f.  89. 

tells   it   less  well.     (Voyage,   p."^121.)  On   tlie   same   occasion    and   on  the 

The  larasca  was  no  doubt  excessively  same    authority,    we   learn   that  syii.sv 

ugly.     Montalvan  (Coniedias,  Madrid,  girls,  dancing  with  tambourines,  formed 

4to,   1638,  f.   13)  alludes  to  it  lor  its  a  part  of  the  show,  —  a  strange  addition 

monstrous  deformity.  to  a  Christian  festival. 

So  does  Ovando,   describing  a  pro-  :«  c.    Pellieer,   On'gen  de  las  Come- 

cession  in  Malaga,  in  1655  :—  Jias,  ]804,  Tom.  I.  p.  258. 
Ilwlia  una  sierpe  sali  > 
Una  tigura  tremenda  ;  — 


424  CALDEROX'S    AUTOS.  [PF.nioD  II. 

Of  the  entertainments  of  this  sort  which  Culcleron 
furnished  for  Madrid,  Toledo,  and  Seville,  he  has  left, 
as  has  heen  said,  no  less  than  seventy-three.     They  are 

all  allegorical,  and  all,  hy  the  music  and  show 
*  3(U    with  which  they  *  abounded,  are  nearer  to  operas 

than  any  other  class  of  dramas  then  known  in 
Spain ;  some  of  them  reminding  us,  by  their  religious 
extravagance,  of  the  treatment  of  the  gods  in  the  plays 
of  Aristophanes,  and  others,  by  their  spirit  and  rich- 
ness, of  the  poetical  masques  of  Ben  Jonson.  They 
are  upon  a  great  variety  of  subjects,  and  show,  by  their 
structure,  that  elaborate  and  costly  machinery  must 
have  been  itsed  in  theh^  representation.  That  they  are 
a  most  remarkable  exhibition  of  the  spirit  of  the  Catho- 
lic religion,  on  its  poetical  side,  can  no  more  be  donbted 
than  the  fact  that  they  often  produced  a  devout  effect 
on  the  multitudes  that  thronged  to  witness  their  per- 
formance. 

Including  the  ha  that  accompanied  each,  the  aiifos  of 
Calderon  are  nearly  or  quite  as  long  as  the  full-length 
plays  which  he  Avrote  for  the  secular  theatre.  Some 
of  them  indicate  their  subjects  by  their  titles,  like 
"The  First  and  Second  Isaac,"  "God's  Vineyard,"  and 
"Ruth's  Gleanings."  Others,  like  "The  True  God 
Pan"  and  "The  First  Flower  of  Carmel,"  give  no 
such  intimations.  All  are  crowded  with  shadowy  per- 
sonages, such  as  Sin,  Death,  Mohammedanism,  Juda- 
ism, Justice,  Mercy,  and  Charity ;  and  the  uniform 
puqiose  and  end  of  all  is  to  set  forth  and  glorify 
the  doctrine  of  the  Real  Presence  in  the  Eucharist. 
The  great  Enemy  of  man,  of  course,  fills  a  large 
space  in  them,  —  Quevedo  says  too  large,  adding, 
that,  at  last,  he  had  grown  to  be  quite  a  presuming 
and    vaint^lorious    i)r'i'sona":e,    cominii;    on     the     stay:e 


Vu.w.  XXI I.J  CALDERON's    AUTOS.  425 

dressed    finely,  and    talking    as    if  the    theatre    were 
altogether  his  own.*^ 

There  is  necessarily  a  good  deal  of  sameness  in  the 
structure  of  dramas  like  these  ;  but  it  is  wonderful  with 
Avhat  ingenuity  Calderon  has  varied  his  allegories,  some- 
times mingling  them  with  the  national  history,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  two  aiitos  on  Saint  Ferdinand  ;  oftener 
with  incidents  and  stories  from  Scripture,  like  '-The 
Brazen  Serpent  "  and  "'  The  Captivity  of  the  Ark  ";  and 
always,  where  he  could,  seizing  any  popular  occasion  to 
pi'oduce  an  effect,  as  he  did  after  the  completion 
of  the  Escorial  *  and  of  the  Buen  Retiro,  and  '*  3G2 
after  the  marriage  of  the  Infanta  Maria  Teresa ; 
each  of  which  events  contributed  materials  for  a  sepa- 
rate auto.  Almost  all  of  them  have  passages  of  striking 
lyrical  poetr}^  as  well  as  gorgeous  descriptive  passages  ; 
and  a  few,  of  which  "Devotion  to  the  Mass"  is  the 
chief,  make  a  free  use  of  the  old  ballads. 

One  of  the  most  characteristic  of  the  collection,  and 
one  that  has  great  poetical  merit  in  separate  portions, 
is  "  The  Divine  Orpheus."'^*  It  opens  Avith  the  entrance 
of  a  huge  black  car,  in  the  shape  of  a  boat,  which  is 
drawn  along  the  street  toward  the  stage  where  the 
unto  is  to  be  acted,  and  contains  the  Prince  of  Dark- 
ness, set  forth  as  a  pirate,  and  Envy,  as  his  steersman ; 
ijoth  supposed  to  be  thus  navigating  through  a  portion 
of  chaos.^^    They  hear,  at  a  distance,  sweet  music  which 

^  Quevedo,  Obras,   1791,  Tom.  I.  ji,  young,  among  the  rejoicings  of  the  city 

•386.  \va.s  a  grand  diainatii;  entertainment,  in 

'^*  It  is  in  the  fourth  volume  of  the  which  a  vast  car  appeared,  that  opened 

edition  printed  at  Madrid  in  1759,  and  into  si.x  parts  and  discovered  the  new- 

in  the  single  volume  iiublished  in  1690.  Ijorn  prince  kneeling  before  the  Castu- 

'^  Such  dramatic  representations  and  ilia   that    contained    the    wafer   oi  the 

such  cars  were   occ'asionally   a  part  of  sacrament,  —  "Thus,"  sa_ys  the  contem- 

other  great   solemnities   besides   those  porary  account  of  tliese  shows,    "thus 

of  the  Corpus  Christi,  which  were  the  intimating  that  tlie   )*i'inces  of  the  au- 

greatest  of  all.     Thu.s,    at   Huesca,   in  gust  House  of  Austria  arc  &yr«  divinely 

1657,    after    the    birth   of   Don    Fclijie  tauglit  to  worship  the  most  holy  sacra- 

Prospero,  a  soji  of  Philip  IV.,  who  dii  <l  incut."     jielacioii  dc  las  Fiestas  <pu'  hv 


426  CALDEKON's    AUTOS.  [Period  II. 

proceeds  from  another  car,  advancing  from  the  opposite 
quarter  in  the  form  of  a  celestial  globe,  covered  with 
the  .signs  of  the  planets  and  constellations,  and  con- 
taining Orpheus,  who  represents  allegoricallj  the  Cre- 
ator of  all  things.  This  is  followed  by  a  third  car, 
^setting  forth  the  terrestrial  globe,  within  which  are  the 
Seven  Days  of  the  Week,  and  Human  Nature,  all  asleep. 
These  cars  open,  so  that  the  personages  they  contain 
can  come  upon  the  stage  and  retire  back  again,  as  if 
behind  the  scenes,  at  their  pleasure;  —  the  machines 
themselves  constituting,  in  this  as  in  all  such  representa- 
tions, an  important  part  of  the  scenic  arrangements  of 
the  exhibition,  and,  in  the  popular  estimation,  not  un- 

frequently  the  most  important  part.'^'' 
*  363        *  On   their  arrival   at  the   stage,  the    Divine 

Orpheus,  with  lyrical  poetry  and  music,  begins 
the  work  of  creation,  using  always  language  borrowed 
from  Scripture ;  and  at  the  suitable  moment,  as  he 
advances,  each  Day  presents  itself,  roused  from  -  its 
ancient  sleep  and  clothed  with  symbols  indicating  the 
nature  of  the  work  tliat  has  been  accomplished  ;  after 
which,  Human  Nature  is,  in  the  same  way,  summoned 
forth,  and  appears  in  the  form  of  a  beautiful  woman, 
who  is  the  Eurydice  of  the  fable.  Pleasure  dwells  with 
her  in  Paradise  ;  and,  in  her  exuberant  happiness,  she 
sings  a  h}Tnn  in  honor  of  her  Creator,  founded  on  the 
hundred  and  thirty-sixth  Psalm,  the  poetical  effect  of 
which  is  diminished  by  an  imbecoming  scene  of  allegor- 
ical gallantry  that  immediately  follows  between  the 
Divine  Orpheus  hhnself  and  Human  Nature.'^' 

Ciudad   de    Hiiesra,    cc,    ha   liecho  al  which  was  dedicated  to  the  royal  hahe 

Naciiiiit'iito  did  Priiici[w  mu'stro  Senor  in  16G1,  wheu  he  was  about  three  years 

D.  Ftlij>e  Pros])cro.     4to.  s.  a.  \\\>.  :j;j-  ohl. 

37.     It  may  be  worth  notice,  that  tliere  *'  Such   a   representation   was   often 

is  a  finely  enj^i-aved  head  of  Prince  Pros-  called  "  fiesta  de  los  cams." 

pfTo,  a-s  a  child,   in  an  edition  of  Re-  ^'  The  aut/)!i  being  founded  on  a  doc- 

boUedo's   "Selva    .Mililar   y    i'olitiia,"  trine  of  the  Church,  their  use  of  Scrip- 


Chap.  XXII. I  CALDERON'S    AUTOS.  427 

The  temptation  and  fall  succeed ;  and  tlien  the 
graceful  Days,  which  had  before  always  accompanied 
Human  Nature  and  scattered  gladness  in  her  path,  dis- 
appear one  by  one,  and  leave  her  to  her  trials  and  her 
sins.  She  is  overwhelmed  with  remorse,  and,  endeavor- 
ing to  escape  from  the  consequences  of  her  guilt,  is 
conveyed  by  the  Ijark  of  Lethe  to  the  realms  of  the 
Prince  of  Darkness,  who,  from  his  first  appearance  on 
the  scene,  has  been  laboring,  with  his  coadjutor,  Envy, 
for  this  very  triumph.  But  his  triumph  is  short.  The 
Divine  Orpheus,  who  has,  for  some  time,  represented 
the  character  of  our  Saviour,  comes  upon  the  stage, 
weeping  over  the  fall,  and  sings  a  song  of  love  and 
grief  to  the  accompaniment  of  a  harp  made  partly  in 
the  form  of  a  cross ;  after  which,  rousing  himself  in 
iiis  omnipotence,  he  enters  the  realms  of  darkness, 
amidst  thunders  and  earthquakes ;  overcomes  all  oppo- 
sition ;  rescues  Human  Nature  from  perdition ;  places 
he»,  with  the  seven  redeemed  Days  of  the  Week,  on  a 
fourth  car,  in  the  form  of  a  ship,  so  ornamented  as  to 
represent  the  Christian  Church  and  the  mystery  of  the 
Eucharist ;  and  then,  as  the  gorgeous  machine  sweeps 
away,  the  exhibition  ends  with  the  shouts  of  the 
actors  in  *  the  drama,  accompanied  by  the  an-  *  364 
swering  shouts  of  the  devout  spectators  on  their 
knees  wishing  the  good  ship  a  good  voyage  and  a  happy 
arrival  at  her  destined  port.'^^ 

ture  and  of  scriiituml  allusions  is,  of  tliere  in  November,  1635, — got  up  in 
course,  abundant.  Perliajis  the  most  consequence  of  an  outrage  which  had 
striking  instance  of  this  is  in  Calderon's  been  offered  to  the  Holy  Sacrament 
"  Cena  de  Balta.sar,"  in  Tom.  II.,  1759.  four  months  earlier  by  a  French  heretic, 
**  Allegorical  ships  were  not  iincom-  and  for  which  it  was  intended  thus  to 
rion  in  religious  exhibitions.  We  have  atone,  —  dcsagraviar  ;  —  the  Ship  of 
noticed  two  such  already  in  Lope's  early  Faith  firing  broadsides  of  texts  of  Scrip- 
drama  entitled  "The  Soul's  Voyage."  ture  at  Luther,  Wiclif,  Calvin,  aiuHEeo- 
(See  rtiife,  Chap.  XV.)  Another,  float-  lani[)adius,  who  were  swimming  about 
ing  on  a  sea  of  silver  before  the  Chapel  and  vainly  striving  to  repeat  tlie  out- 
of  the  Sacrament,  in  the  Cathedral  of  rage.  See  Descripcion  de  la  grandiosa 
Granada,   was  exhibited  at   a   festival  y  celebre  Fiesta,  ec.,  por  D.  Pedro  de 


428  rOPULAFvlTY    OF    AUTOS.  [Pkuiod  II. 

That  these  Sacramental  Acts  produced  a  great  effect, 
there  can  be  no  doubt.  Allegory  of  all  kinds,  Avhich. 
from  the  earliest  periods,  had  been  fittractiw  to  tlie 
Spanish  people,  still  continued  so  to  an  extraordinary 
degree ;  and  the  imposing  show  of  the  aidos,  their 
music,  and  the  fact  that  the}^  Avere  represented  in 
seasons  of  solemn  leisure,  at  the  expense  of  the  govern- 
ment, and  with  the  sanction  of  the  Church,  gave  them 
claims  on  the  popular  ftivor  which  were  enjoyed  by  no 
other  form  of  popular  amusement.  They  Avere  writ^ 
ten  and  acted  everywhere  throughout  the  country,  and 
by  all  classes  of  people,  because  they  were  everywhere 
demanded.  How  humble  w^ere  some  of  their  exhibi- 
tions in  the  villages  and  hamlets  may  be  seen  from 
Roxas.  who  o-ives  an  account  of  an  auto  on  the  storv  of 

.'CI  x/ 

Cain,  in  which  two  actors  performed  all  the  j)arts;'^ 
and  from  Lope  de  Vega^  and  Cervantes,*^  who  speak 
of  autos  being  written  by  barbers  and  acted  by  shep- 
herds. On  the  other  hand,  we  know  that  in  Ma<!Jrid 
no  expense  was  spared  to  add  to  their  solemnity  and 
effect,  and  that  everywhere  the}'  had  the  countenance 
and  support  of  the  puljlic  authorities.  Nor  has  their 
influence  even  yet  entirely  ceased.  In  1765,  Charles 
the  Third  forbade  their  public  representation ;  but  the 
popular  will  and  the  habits  of  five  centuries  could  not 

be  immediately  broken  down  bv  a  royal  decree. 
*  365    Autos,  *  therefore,  or   dramatic  religious  farces 

resembling  them,  are  still  heard  in  some  of  the 
remote  villages  of  the  country;  while,  in  the  former 

Araujo  Salgado,    Granada,    ]635,    4to,  gave  birth  to  many  of  them, — perhaps 

ff.    12-15.      The   Vfll-known    Nanen-  to  tliis  one  at  (hanada. 

Schifi'  of  Sebastian  Hrandt,  familiar  in  '^^  Viage,  l(jl4,  (f.  3r>-37. 

all  languages,  and  in  every  form  that  *"  Lo])ede  Vega,  Comedias,  Tom.  IX., 

the  press  could  give  it,  from  its  first  Barcelona,  1618,  f.  133,   El  Animal  de 

apjtearance,  about  1480,  down  to  com-  Ungria. 

])aratively  recent  times,  belongs  to  the  *^  Don  Qui.xote,  Parte  I.  c.  xii. 

saiiK!   cla.ss   of   fictions,    and   no   doubt 


Chap.  XXII.)    CALDKKON  S    RELIGIOUS    COMEDIAS. 


429 


(lependeiicies  ol'  Spain,  exhibitions  oi'  llic  same  class 
and  nature,  if  not  precisely  of  the  same  form,  have 
never  been  interfered   with.^'^ 


Oij'idl-lcugtli  religious  pl<i//s  and  pl(u/s  of  saints  Calderon 
wrote,  in  all,  thirteen  or  fourteen.  This  was,  no  doubt, 
necessary  to  his  success  ;  for  at  one  time  during-  his 
career,  such  plays  were  much  demanded.  The  death 
of  Queen  Isabella,  in  1644,  and  of  Balthasar,  the  heir- 
apparent,  in  1C)4(),  caused  a  suspension  of  public  repre- 
sentations on  the  theatres,  and  revived  the  question  of 
their  lawfulness.  New  rules  were  prescribed  about  the 
number  of  actors  and  their  costumes,  and  an  attempt 
w\as  made  even  to  drive  from  the  theatre  all  plays  in- 


*^  Doblado's  Letters,  1822,  pp.  296, 
301,  303  -  309  ;  Mailaiiie  Calderoii'.s 
Life  in  Mexico,  London,  1843,  Letters 
38  and  39  ;  and  Thompson's  Reeollec- 
tions  of  Mexico,  New  York,  1846,  8vo, 
chap.  11.  How  much  the  autua  were 
valued  to  the  last,  even  by  respectable 
ecclesiastics,  may  be  inferred  from  the 
^rave  admii-ation  bestowed  on  them  by 
Martin  Panzano,  chaplain  to  the  Span- 
ish embassy  at  Turin,  in  his  Latin 
treatise,  "  L)e  Hispanorum  Literatura," 
(Mantuic,  17^)9,  folio,)  intended  as  a 
defence  of  his  country's  literary  claims, 
in  which,  s])eaking  of  the  autos  of  Cal- 
deron, only  a  few  years  before  they  were 
forbidden,  'he  says  they  were  dramas, 
"in  quibus  ne(|ue  in  inveniendo  acu- 
men, nee  in  disponendo  ratio,  necpie  in 
ornando  aut  venustas,  ant  nitor,  ant 
niajestas  desiderantur."  —  p.  Ixxv. 

Even  in  Germany,  genuine  "  mii'acle- 
plays"  have  not  wholly  disappeared,  as 
we  have  .seen  they  had  not  in  France  in 
1805.  (See  ante.  Period  L  Chap.  XIII. 
Tiote  3.)  Thus,  once  in  ten  years,  if 
not  oftener,  at  Oberammergau,  in  Ba- 
varia, a  "  Passions-schauspiel,"  begin- 
ning with  the  entrance  of  the  Saviour 
into  Jerusalem,  and  ending  with  his 
resurrection,  is  acted  in  fulfilment  of  a 
vow  made  there  during  a  pestilence  in 
1633.  I  have  the  ehjlit.h  edition  of  the 
poetical  ])arts  of  this  singular  jday, 
printed  at  Munich  in  1860,  and  an  ac- 


count of  the  representation  of  it,  which 
0(!curre(l  thirteen  times  in  the  course  of 
that  year,  published  at  Leipzig  in  18.51, 
bj^  Eduard  Devrient,  4to,  pp.  43,  witli 
plates  to  illustrate  it  ju.st  as  it  appeared, 
acted  in  the  open  air,  and  another  vol- 
ume of  documents  about  it  by  M.  Van 
Deutinger,  Munchen,  1851.  The  whole 
leaves  no  doubt  that  this  extraordinary 
exhibition,  at  which  six  thousand  per- 
sons are  sonu^times  ju'esent,  is  made  in 
the  religious  si)irit  of  the  Middle  Ages  ; 
all  the  people  in  the  village  wlier(;  it 
occurs  taking  part  in  the  show,  or  in 
the  preparations  for  it.  The  piincipal 
drama  is  broken  into  scenes  by  twenty- 
eight  tableaux,  in  pantomime,  of  events 
from  the  Old  Testament,  and  is  among 
the  most  wild  antl  strange  relics  of  the 
Theati'e  of  the  Middle  xVges  that  have 
come  down  to  our  times.  The  wonder 
is  that  it  has  reached  us,  not  embalmed 
as  a  literary  curiosity,  but  as  a  living 
interest  of  living  men,  educated  in  a 
wholly  different  state  of  the  world  from 
the  one  that  originally  produced  it,  and 
to  which  alone  it  seems  fitted.  Pe- 
cuniary profit,  however,  is,  no  doubt, 
one  of  the  main-springs  of  its  contin- 
\wA  success.  It  forms  a  large  interest 
in  an  English  novel  entitled  "Quits," 
written  l)y  an  English  lady  married 
in  Bavaria,  who  must  have  witnessed 
it  in  order  to  have  described  it  so 
well. 


430  CALDEROX's    KELIGIOUS    COMKDIAS.       [I'l-iuoo  II. 

Yolviiig  the  passion  of  love,  and  especially  all 
*  3GG    the    plays   of  *  Lope    de   Vega.     This    irritable 

state  of  thino-s  continued  till  1G49.  But  noth- 
ing  of  conser|uence  followed.  The  regulations  that 
were  made  were  not  executed  in  the  spirit  in  which 
they  were  conceived.  Many  plays  were  announced 
and  acted  as  religious  which  had  no  claim  whatever  to 
the  title  ;  and  others,  religious  hi  their  extei'ual  frame- 
work, were  filled  up  with  an  intriguing  love-plot,  as 
free  as  anything  in  the  secular  drama  had  Ijcen.  In- 
deed, there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  attempts  thus 
made  to  constrain  the  theatre  were  successfully  opposed 
or  evaded,  especially  by  private  representations  in  the 
houses  of  the  nobility  ;^^  and  that,  when  these  attempts 
were  given  up,  the  drama,  with  all  its  old  attributes 
and  attractions^  broke  forth  with  a  greater  extrava- 
gance of  popularity  than  ever  ;  ^  —  a  fact  apparent 
from  the  crowd  of  dramatists  that  became  lanious,  and 
from  the  circumstance  that  so  many  of  the  clergy,  like 
Tarresfa,  Mira  de  Mescua,  Montalvan,  Tirso  de  Molina, 
and  Calderon,  to  say  nothing  of  Lope  de  A'ega.  who 

*3  These  representations  in  private  A  few  liints  and  facts  on  the  subject  of 
houses  had  long  l)een  common.  Bisbe  the  secular  drama  of  this  period  may 
y  Yidal  (Tratado,  1618,  c.  18)  speaks  also  be  found  in  L'lloa  y  Pereira's  de- 
of  them  as  familiar  in  Barcelona,  and  fence  of  it,  written  apparently  to  meet 
treats  them,  in  his  otherwise  severe  at-  the  troubles  of  1644-1650,  but  not 
tack  on  the  theatre,  with  a  gentleness  i)ublished  until  1659,  4to.  He  con- 
that  shows  he  recognized  their  influence.  tends  that  tlicre  was  never  any  serious 

**  It  is  not  easy  to  make  out  how  purpose  to  break  up  the  theatre,  and 

much  the  theatre  was  really  interfered  that  even  Philip  II.  meant  only  to  reg- 

with  during  these  four  or  five  years;  ulate,   not   to  sup]u-ess   it.      (p.    343.) 

but  the  dramatic  writers  seem  to  have  Don  Luis  Crespe  de  Borja,   Bishop  of 

felt    themselves    constrained    in   their  Orihuela  and  ambassador  of  Pliilip  IV. 

course,  more  or  less,  for  a  part  of  that  at  Home,  who  had  previously  favoivd 

time,  if  not  the  whole  of  it.     The  ae-  the  theatre,  made,   in  Lent,   1646,  an 

counts  are  to  be  found  in  Casiano  Pel-  attack  on  it  in  a  sermon,  which,  when 

licer,  Origen,  etc.,  de  la  Coniedia,  Tom.  i>ublished   thiee    years   afterwards,  ex- 

I.  pp.  216-222,  and  Tom.  II.   ]>.  135  ;  cited  a  considerable  sensation,  and  wa.s 

—  a  work  important,  Init  ill  tligested.  answered  by  Andres  de  Avila  y  Here- 

Conde,  the  historian,  once  told  me  that  dia,   el  Senor  de  la  Gareua,   and  sus- 

its  materials  were  furnished  chiefly  by  tained  by  Padre  Ignacio  Camargo.     But 

the  autlior's  father,  the  learned  editor  nothing  of  this  sort  much  hindered  or 

of  Don  Quixote,  and  that  the  son  did  helped  the   progress  of  the  drama  in 

not  know  how  to  put  them  together.  Spain. 


'Chap.  XXII.]        CALDERON's    RELIGIOUS    COMEDIAS.  431 

was  particularl}'  exact  in  his  duties  as  a  priest,  were  all 
successful  writers  for  the  stage .*^ 

*■  Of  the  religious  plays  of  Calderon,  one  of  *  367 
the  most  remarkal)le  is  "  The  Pui-gatorj  of  Saint 
Patrick."  It  is  founded  on  the  little  volume  by  Mon- 
talvan,  already  referred  to,  in  which  the  old  traditions 
<3f  an  entrance  into  Purgatory  from  a  cave  in  an  island 
off  the  coast  of  Ireland,  or  in  Ireland  itself,  are  united 
to  the  fictitious  history  of  Ludovico  Enio,  a  Spaniard, 
who,  except  that  he  is  converted  by  Saint  Patrick  and 
''makes  a  good  ending,"  is  no  better  than  another  Don 
Juan.*''  The  strange  play  in  which  these  are  principal 
figures  opens  with  a  shipwreck.  Saint  Ptitrick  and  the 
godless  Enio  drift  ashore  and  find  themselves  in  Ire- 
land,—  the  sinner  being  saved  from  drowning  by  the 
vio-orous  exertions  of  the  saint.  The  kino;  of  the  coun- 
try,  who  immediately  appears  on  the  stage,  is  an  atheist, 
furious  against  Christianity  ;  and  after  an  exhibition, 
which  is  not  without  poetry,  of  the  horrors  of  savage 
heathendom.  Saint  Patrick  is  sent  as  a  slave  into  the 
interior  of  the  island,  to  work  for  this  brutal  master. 

*5  The  clergy  writing  loose  and  ini-  the  same  ;  how  devoutly  you  may  guess. 

moral  plays  is  only  one  exemplification  But  custom  is  very  potent  in  this  coun- 

of  the  unsound  state  of  society  so  often  try."     Ed.  1693,  Tom.  II.  p.  124. 

set  forth  in  Madame  d'Aulnoy's  Travels  **'  The  "  Vida  y  Purgatorio  del  Glori- 

in  Spain,  in  1679-80;  —  a  curious  and  o.so  San  Patric'io,"  (1627,)  of  which  I 

amusing  book,  which  sometimes  throws  have  a  copy,  (Aladrid,  1739,  18mo,)  was 

a  strong  light  on  the  nature  of  the  re-  long  a  popular  book  of  devotion,  both 

ligious   spirit    that    so   frecpiently   .sur-  in  S[>anish  and  in  French.      That  Cal- 

prises  us  in  Sjianish  literature.     Thus,  deron  used  it  is  obvious  throughout  his 

when  she  is  giving  an  account  of  the  play.     Wright,  however,  in  his  pleasant 

constant   nse   made   of   the   rosary   or  work  on  St.  Patrick's  Purgatory,  (Lon- 

\:haplet  of  beads, — a  well-known  pas-  don,   1844,   12nio,  pp.   156- 159,)  su])- 

.sion  in  Spain,  connected,  perhaps,  with  poses  that  the  French  book  of  dc'votion 

the  Mohanunedan  origin  of  the  rosary,  was  made  up  chiefly  from  Calderon's 

uf  which  the  Christian  rosary  was  made  play  ;  whereas  they  resemble  eacli  other 

a  rival, — she  says,    "They  are  going  only  because  both  were  tak(!n  from  the 

over  their  beads  constantly  when  they  Spanish  prose  work  of  Montalvan.    See 

are  in  the  streets,  and  in  conversation  ;  ante,    p.    314.      Enio,    under   different 

when  they  are  playing  omhre,  making  nanuis,   is  known  to  the  old  monkish 

love,   telling   lies,    or  talking  scandal.  accounts  of  St.  Patrick,  from  the  twelfth 

In    short,    they  are    forever   muttering  century  ;  but  it  is  Montalvan  and  Cal- 

•over  their  cliaplets  ;   and   even  in  tlie  deron  who  have  made  him  the  personage 

most  ceremonious  society  it  goes  on  just  we  now  recognize. 


432  CALDERON's    ItELKaOUS    COMEDIA.S.      [Pkuioi.  il 

The  first  act  ends  with  his  arriviil  at  his  destination, 
■where,  in  the  open  fields,  after  a  fervent  prayer,  he 
is  comforted  by  an  angel,  and  warned  of  the  will  of 
Heaven,  tliat  he  slionld  convert  his  oppressors. 

Before  the  second  act  opens,  three  years  elapse,  dur- 
ing which  Saint  Patrick  has  visited  Rome  and  been 
regularly  commissioned  for  his  great  work  in  Ireland, 
where  he  nov\"  appears,  ready  to  undertake  it.  He  im- 
mediately performs  miracles  of  all  kinds,  and,  among^ 
the  rest,  raises  the  dead  before  the  audience ;  but  still 
the  old  heathen  king  refuses  to  be  converted,  unless 
the  very  Purgatory,  Hell,  and  Paradise  preached 
*  368  to  him  are  made  sure  to  the  *  senses  of  some 
.  well-known  witness.  This,  therefore,  is  divinely 
vouchsafed  to  the  intercession  of  Saint  Patrick.  A  com- 
munication with  the  iniseen  world  is  opened  through  a 
dark  and  frightful  cave.  Enio.  the  godless  Spaniard, 
already  converted  hy  an  alarming  vision,  enters  it  and 
witnesses  its  dread  secrets ;  after  which  he  returns, 
and  effects  the  conversion  of  the  king  and  court  by  a 
long  description  of  what  he  had  seen.  This,  however, 
is  the  only  catastrophe  to  the  play. 

Besides  its  religious  story,  the  Purgatory  of  Saint 
Patrick  has  ji  love-plot,  such  as  might  become  the 
most  secular  drama,  and  a  gracioso  as  rude  and  free- 
spoken  as  the  rudest  of  his  class.^"  But  the  whole 
was  intended  to  produce  what  was  then  regarded  as 
a  religious  effect ;  and  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  it  failed  of  its  purpose.     There  is,  however,  much 

*7  When   Enio  determines  to  adven-  Or,  if  the  matter  must  to  goblins  come, 

ture   into   the   rave   of   Purgatory,   he  por '„"v  pSTon ''' '''^^^  ^°°"^^  "' °°'' 

gravely  urges  his  servant,   who  is  the  '  ""•    '  co„edia.s,  1760,  Tom.  II.  p.  264. 

(iracioso  of  the  tiieee,  to  go  with  him  ;  ,r,i         •     i                             i    i     i  ..i    ..   • 

V.       1  •  1   ti  „      .!,„„*.  ..„,>!;„  I  here  IS,  however,  a  good  deal  that  is 

to  whidi  the  servant  replies,  —  ,         -^i  •        i  i  i               v   ■        i 

'  solemn  m  this  wild  drama,      hiiio,  when 

T  ncvr-r  h.-anl  h^fore  that  any  man  ]„.  „„f.^  ^,y  ^l^,  i„f,.,„al  world,    talks,    la 

Took  lafki'v  with  hlin  when  he  went  to  hell  I  xi            •   -^      »■    r\       .     i  •          ii-       r 

Xn,-to  nn-  native  vilUi(jc  will  I  ha^te.  the  .spirit  of    Dante  himselt,   ot 

Where  I  eau  live  in  something  like  content ;  Treading  on  the  very  ghost.s  of  men. 


€nAi-.   XXll.l        (AI.DKIJOX'S    IMCr.KJIOUS    COMEDIAS.  433 

ill  It  that  would  Ix'  iiuscciiily  mider  any  system  of 
i'aith  ;  some  wearying  metaphysics ;  and  two  s[)eeches 
of  Enio's,  each  above  three  hundred  hues  long, —  tlie 
first  an  account  of  his  shameful  life  before  his  conver- 
sion, and  the  last  a  narrative  of  all  he  had  witnessed 
in  the  cave,  absurdly  citing  for  its  truth  fourteen  or 
fifteen  obscure  monkisli  authoi'ities,  all  of  which  1)elong 
to  a  period  subsequent  to  his  own.*^  Such  as  it  is, 
however,  the  Puro-atorv  of  Saint  Patrick  is  commonly 
ranked  among  the  best  religious  plays  of  the  Spanish 
theatre  in  the  seventeenth  century. 

It  is,  indeed,  on  many  accounts,  less  offensive  than 
the  more  famous  drama,  "Devotion  to  the  Cross," 
printed  in  1635,  which  is  founded  on  the  adventures 
of  a  man  who,  though  his  life  is  a  tissue  of  gross  and 
atrocious  crimes,  is  yet  made  an  object  of  the  especial 
favor  of  God,  because  he  shows  a  uniform  exter- 
nal *  reverence  for  whatever  has  the  form  of  a  *  360 
cross ;  and  who,  dying  in  a  rutfian  brawl,  as  a 
robber,  is  yet,  in  consequence  of  this  devotion  to  the 
cross,  miraculously  restored  to  life,  that  he  may  confess 
his  sins,  be  absolved,  and  then  be  transported  directly 
to  heaven.  The  whole  seems  to  be  absolutely  an  in- 
vention of  Calderon,  and,  from  the  fervent  poetical  tone 
of  some  of  its  devotional  passages,  it  has  always  been 
a  favorite  in  Spain,  and,  what  is  yet  more  remarkable, 
has  found  ardent  admirers  in  Protestant  Christendom.'*'' 

*^  See  ch;q)teis  4  and  (3  of  Moiital-  the  "Cabellos  de  Absalon "  and  "Las 

van's  "  Patricio."  Aniazonas  "    of   Calderon,    and    of   the 

**  It  is  beautifully  translated  by  A.  "Numancia"  of  Cervantes.     A  drama 

W.  Sehh'fjel,  — the  first  play  in  his  eol-  of  Tirso  de  Molina,  "  El  Condenado  ])()r 

lection  of  1803,  —  preserving  rigorously  Desconfiado,"  goes  still  more  profoundly 

the  measures  and  manner  of  the  oi-igi-  into  the  peculiar  religious  faith  of  tlie 

nal,  and  following  its  uaonnnten  as  well  age,   and  may  well  be  eom])ared  with 

as  its  rhynu^s.     AH  the  translations  of  the   "Devocion  de  la  Cruz,"  which  it 

Schlegel  from  the  Spanish  theatre  are  preceded  in  time,  and  perliaps  surpasses 

worth    reading.     The    amplest    edition  in  poetical  merit.      It  represents  a  rev- 

of  th(!m  is  the  one  in  two  vols.,  12mo,  erend  hermit,  Paulo,  as  losing  the  favor 

Leipzig,  1845,  containing  fiagments  of  of  God,  simply  from  want  of  trust  in 
vor,.   II.                                28 


434  CALDEROX'S    RELIGIOUS    COMEDIAS.       [Pkiuoi.  II. 

"The  AVonder-workiiiii;  Mai»:ic'iini,"  founded  on  the 
stoiy  of  Saint  Cyprian,  —  the  8anie  legend  on  which 
Mihiian  has  founded  his  '•  Martyr  of  Antioch,"  —  is, 
however,  more  attractive  than  either  of  the  dramas 
just  mentioned,  and,  Uke  "  El  Joseph  de  las  Mugeres," 
reminds  us  of  Goethe's  '^' Faust."  It  opens  —  after  one 
of  those  gorgeous  descriptions  of  natural  scenery  in 
which  Calderon  loves  to  indulge  —  with  an  account 
^y  Cyprian,  still  unconverted,  of  his  retirement,  on  a 
day  devoted  to  the  service  of  Jupiter,  from  the  bustle 
and  confusion  of  the  city  of  Antioch,  in  order  to  spend 
the  time  in  inquiries  concerning  the  existence  of  One 
Supreme  Deity.  As  he  seems  likely  to  arrive  at  con- 
clusions not  far  from  the  truth,  Satan,  to  whom  such  a 
result  would  be  particularly  uuMelcome,  breaks  in  upon 
his  studies,  and,  in  the  dress  of  a  fine  gentleman,  an- 
nounces himself  to  be  a  man  of  learning,  who  has  acci- 
dentally lost  his  way.  In  imitation  of  a  fashion  not 
rare  among  scholars  at  European  imiversities  in  the 
poet's  time,  this  personage  offers  to  hold  a  dispute  with 
Cyprian  on  any  sul)ject  whatever.     CVprian  naturally 

chooses  the  one  that  then  troubled  his  thoughts ; 
*  370    *and  after  a  long,  logical  discussion,  according 

to  the  discipline  of  the  schools,  obtains  a  clear 
victory,  —  though  not  without  feeling  enough  of  his 
adversary's  power  and  genius  to  express  a  sincere 
admiration  for  l)oth.  Tlie  evil  spirit,  however,  though 
defeated,  is  not  discouraged,  and  goes  awa}',  deter- 
mined to  try  tlie  power  of  temptation. 

it  ;  while  Enrico,  a  robbuv  ami  assassin,  that  the  rebellious  angels  were  thrust 

obtains   that  favor   by  an    exercise  of  down  to  jjerdition  for  a  single  offence 

faith  anil  trust  at  the  last  moment  of  a  without  any  power  to  regain,  by  peni- 

life  which  hail  been  filled  with  the  most  tence,  their  lost  places  in  heaven,  while 

revolting  criines.     Satan   complains,    I  man,   though   he  make   a  god   of  his 

think,  very  justly  of  this  state  of  the  sins,  can,  at  last,    recover  the  Divine 

ca.se  in  a  jday  of  Malaspina,  (La  Fueiza  favor  by  a  sigh  or  a  few  tears, 
di'  la  Vcrdad,  Join.  1.,)  where  he  says, 


Chap.  XX 1 1]      CALDEKON's    HELIGIOUS    (X)MEDIAS.  435 

For  this  piir])<)se  he  ))rings  upon  the  stage  Lelius, 
soil  of  the  governor  of  Antioch,  and  Florus,  —  both 
IViends  of  Cyj)i-ian.  —  who  eonie  to  fight  a  duel,  near 
the  place  of  his  present  retirement,  concerning  a  fair 
lady  named  Justina,  aganist  whose  gentle  innocence 
the  Spirit  of  all  Evil  is  particularly  incensed.  Cyprian 
interferes;  the  parties  rel'er  their  (piarrel  to  him;  he 
visits  Justina,  who  is  secretly  a  Christian,  and  supj^oses 
herself  to  be  the  daughter  of  a  Christian  priest ;  but, 
unhappily,  Cyprian,  instead  of  executing  his  commis- 
sion, falls  desperately  in  love  with  her;  while,  in 
order  to  make  out  the  ruiniing  parody  on  the  prin- 
cipal action,  common  in  Spanish  plays,  the  two  lackeys 
of  Cyprian  are  both  found  to  be  in  love  with  Justina's 
maid. 

Now,  of  course,  begins  the  complication  of  a  truly 
Spanish  intrigue,  for  which  all  that  precedes  it  is  only 
a  preparation.  That  same  night  Lelius  and  Florus,  the 
two  original  rivals  for  the  love  of  Justina,  who  favors 
neither  of  them,  come  separately  before  her  window 
to  offer  her  a  serenade,  and  while  there,  Satan  deceives 
them  both  into  a  confident  belief  that  the  lady  is  dis- 
gracefully attached  to  some  other  person  ;  for  he  him- 
self, in  the  guise  of  a  gallant,  descends  from  her  bal- 
cony, before  their  eyes,  by  a  rope-ladder,  and,  having 
reached  the  bottom,  sinks  into  the  ground  betw^een  the 
two.  As  they  did  not  see  each  other  till  after  his  dis- 
appearance, though  both  had  seen  him,  each  takes  the 
other  to  be  this  favored  rival,  and  a  duel  ensues  on  the 
spot.  Cyprian  again  opportunely  interferes,  but,  hav- 
ing understood  nothing  of  the  vision  or  the  rope-ladder, 
is  astonished  to  find  that  both  renounce  Justina  as  no 
longer  worthy  their  regard.  And  thus  ends  the  first 
act. 


436  CALDEKON'b    JIELJGIOUS    COMEDIA-S.        [Vi.v.iou  II. 

Ill  the  two  Other  acts,  Satan  i.s  still  a  bii.^y,  bustlmg 
personage.  He  appears  in  different  forms  ;  first, 
*  371  as  if  *j list  escaped  from  shij)wieek  ;  and  after- 
wards, as  a  fashionable  gallant ;  but  imiformly 
for  mischief.  The  Christians,  meantime,  through  his 
influence,  are  persecuted.  Cvprian's  love  grows  des- 
perate ;  and  he  sells  his  soul  to  the  Sjiirit  of  Evil  for 
the  possession  of  Justina.  The  temptation  of  the  fair 
Christian  maiden  is  then  carried  on  in  all  possible  waj's ; 
especially  in  a  beautiful  lyrical  allegoiy,  where  all 
things  about  her  —  the  birds,  the  flowers,  the  balmy 
air — are  made  to  solicit  her  to  love  with  gentle  and 
winning  voices.  But  in  every  way  the  temptation 
fails.  Satan's  utmost  power  is  defied  and  defeated  by 
the  mere  spirit  of  innocence.  Cyprian,  too,  yields,  and 
becomes  a  Christian,  and  with  Justina  is  mimediately 
brought  before  the  governor,  alreadj-  exasperated  b3' 
discoverino*  that  his  own  son  is  a  lover  of  the  fair  con- 
vert.  Both  are  ordered  to  instant  execution ;  the  buf- 
foon servants  make  many  poor  jests  on  the  occasion ; 
and  the  piece  ends  by  the  appearance  on  a  dragon 
uf  Satan  himself,  who  is  compelled  to  confess  the 
power  of  the  Supreme  Deity,  which  in  the  first  scenes 
he  had  denied,  and  to  proclaim,  amidst  thunder  and 
earthquakes,  that  Cyprian  and  Justina  are  already 
enjoying  the  happiness  won  by  their  glorious  martyr- 
dom.^ 

Few  pieces  contain  more  that  is  characteristic  of  the 
old  Spanish  stage  than  this  one  ;  and  fewer  still  show 
so  plainly  how  the  civil  restraints  laid  on  the  theatre 

^  An  interesting,  but  somewhat  too  vom  wunderthiitigen  Magus."  Beauti- 
metaphysical,  discussion  of  this  play,  ful  translations  of  some  scenes  from  it 
with  prefatory  remarks  on  the  general  were  first  jmblished  in  Shellej''s  Post- 
merits  of  Calderon,  by  Karl  Rosenki-anz,  humous  Poems,  London,  8vo,  1824, 
api>eared  at  Leipzig"  in  1829,  (r2mo,)  pp.  362-392. 
entitled,    "  Uebi-i-  (':il(lir(in\  Tragijdie 


Chap.  XXII.]       CALDERON's    KELIGIOUS    COMEDIAS. 


437 


were  evaded,  and  the  Church  was  conciUated,  while 
the  popuLar  audiences  lost  nothing  of  the  forbidden 
amusement  to  which  they  had  been  long  accustomed 
from  the  secular  drama.'^^  Of  such  plays  Calde- 
ron  wrote  fifteen,  if  we  include  *  in  the  number  *  372 
his  "  Aurora  in  Copacobana,"  which  is  on  the 
conquest  and  conversion  of  the  Indians  in  Peru ;  ^^  and 
his  "  Origin,  Loss,  and  Recovery  of  the  Virgin  of  the 


^^  How  completely  a  light,  worldly 
tone  was  taken  in  these  plays  may  be 
seen  in  the  following  words  of  the  Ma- 
donna, when  she  personally  gives  St. 
Ildefonso  a  rich  vestment,  —  the  chasu- 
ble, —  in  which  he  is  to  say  mass  :  — 

Receive  this  robe,  that,  at  my  holy  feast, 
Thou  raayst  be  seen  as  such  a  gallant  should  be. 
Mv  taste  must  be  consulted  in  thy  dress. 
Like  that  of  any  other  famous  lady. 

Comedias,  1760,  Tom.  VI.  p.  113. 

The  lightness  of  tone  in  this  passage  is 
the  more  remarkable,  because  the  mira- 
cle alluded  to  in  it  is  the  crowning 
glory  of  the  great  cathedral  of  Toledo, 
on  which  volumes  have  been  written, 
and  on  which  Murillo  has  painted  one 
of  his  greatest  and  most  solemn  pictures, 
"while  a  little  earlier.  Fray  Juan  Sanchez 
Cotan  received,  as  he  claimed,  the  honor 
of  a  sitting  from  the  Madonna  herself, 
when  he  was  engaged  in  representing 
the  same  miraculous  scene.  Stirling's 
Artists,  1848,  Vol.  I.  p.  439,  Vol.  II. 
p.  915. 

Figueroa  (Pasagero,  1617,  ff.  104- 
106)  says,  with  much  truth,  in  the 
midst  of  his  severe  remarks  on  the 
drama  of  his  time,  that  the  comedias 
de  Santos  were  so  constructed,  that  the 
lirst  act  contained  the  youth  of  the 
saint,  with  his  follies  and  love-adven- 
tures ;  the  second,  his  conversion  and 
subsequent  life  ;  and  the  third  his  mira- 
cles and  death  ;  but  that  they  often  had 
loose  and  immoral  stories  to  render 
them  attractive.  Tliey  were,  however, 
of  all  varieties  ;  and  it  is  curious,  in 
such  a  collection  of  dramas  as  the  one 
in  forty-eight  volumes,  extending  over 
the  period  from  1652  to  1704,  to  mark 
in  how  manv  ways  the  theatre  endeav- 
ored to  conciliate  the  Church  ;  some  of 
the  plays  being  filled  entirely  with 
saints,  demons,  angels,  and  allegorical 
personages,  and  deserving  the  character 


given  to  the  "Fenix  de  Espana,"  (Tom. 
XLIIL,  1678,)  of  being  sermons  in  the 
shape  of  j'lays  ;  while  others  are  mere 
intriguing  comedies,  with  an  angel  or 
a  saint  put  in  to  consecrate  their  im- 
moralities, like  '^  La  Defen.sora  de  la 
Reyna  de  Ungi'ia,"  by  Fernando  de 
Zarate,   in  Tom.   XXIX.,   1668. 

In  other  countries  of  Christendom 
besides  those  in  which  the  Church  of 
Rome  bears  sway,  this  sort  of  irrever- 
ence in  relation  to  things  divine  has 
more  or  less  shown  itself  among  per- 
sons accounting  themselves  religious. 
The  Puritans  of  England  in  the  days 
of  Cromwell,  from  their  belief  in  the  con- 
stant interference  of  Providence  about 
their  affaii-s,  sometimes  addressed  sup- 
plications to  God  in  a  spirit  not  more 
truly  devout  than  that  shown  by  the 
Spaniards  in  their  autos  and  their  co- 
medias de  sanios.  Both  felt  themselves 
to  ])e  peculiarly  regarded  of  Heaven, 
and  entitled  to  make  the  most  peremp- 
tory claims  on  the  Divine  favor  and 
the  most  free  allusions  to  what  they 
deemed  holy.  But  no  people  ever  felt 
themselves  to  be  so  absolutely  soldiers 
of  the  cross  as  the  Spaniards  did,  from 
the  time  of  their  ^Moorish  wars  ;  no 
people  ever  trusted  so  constantly  to 
the  recurrence  of  miracles  in  the  affairs 
of  their  daily  life  ;  and  therefore  no 
people  ever  talked  of  divine  things  as 
of  matters  in  their  nature  so  familiar 
and  commonplace.  Traces  of  this  state 
of  feeling  and  character  are  to  be  found 
in  Spanish  literature  on  all  sides.  See 
Calderon's  aiUo  "  No  ay  instante  sin 
milagro." 

^'■^  The  remarks  of  Malsburg  on  this 
pla}'  are  well  worth  reading.  They  are 
in  the  Preface  to  his  translations  from 
Calderon,  Leipzig,  1821,  Vol.  IV.  He 
cites  passages  on  the  subject  of  the  play 
from  the  Inca  Garcilasso  to  illustrate  it. 


438  CALDEROX'S    rvELlGIOUb    COMEDIAS.       [Pki:iod  II. 

Reliquary,'  —  a  strange  collection  of  legends,  extend- 
ing over  above  four  centuries,  full  of  the  spirit  of  the 
old  ballads,  and  relating  to  an  image  of  the  Madonna 
still  devoutly  worshipped  in  the  great  cathedral  at 
Toledo. 


*CHArTEIJ    XXIII.  *373 

CALDERON,  COXTINUED.  —  HIS    SECULAR   PLAYS. DIFFICULTY  OF  CLASSIFYING 

THEM. THEIR    PRINCIPAL    INTEREST. NATURE    OF    THEIR    PLOTS. LOVK 

SURVIVES  LIFE. PHYSICIAN    OF    HIS   OWN    HONOR. PAINTER   OF   HIS   OWyC 

DISHONOR.  NO    MONSTER    LIKE    JEALOUSY. FIRM-HEARTED    PRINCE. 

Passing  from  the  religious  plays  of  Calderon  to  the 
secular,  we  at  once  encounter  an  embarrassment  which 
we  have  already  felt  in  other  cases,  —  that  of  dividing 
them  all  into  distinct  and  appropriate  classes.  It  i?^ 
even  difficult  to  determine,  in  every  instance,  whether 
the  piece  we  are  considering  belongs  to  one  of  the 
religious  subdivisions  of  his  dramas  or  not ;  since  the 
"  Wonder-w^orking  Magician,"  for  instance,  is  hardly 
less  an  intriguing  play  than  "  First  of  all  my  Lady  "  ; 
and  '*  Aurora  in  Copacobana "  is  as  full  of  spiritual 
personages  and  miracles,  as  if  it  were  not,  in  the  main, 
a  love-story.  But,  even  after  setting  this  difficulty 
aside,  as  we  have  done,  by  examining  separately  all 
the  dramas  of  Calderon  that  can,  in  any  way,  be  ac- 
counted religious,  it  is  not  possible  to  make  a  definite 
classification  of  the  remainder. 

Some  of  them,  such  as  '-  Nothing  like  Silence,"  are 
absolutely  intriguing  comedies,  and  belong  strictly  to 
the  school  of  the  capay  cspada  ;  others,  like  "  A  Friend 
Loving  and  Loyal,"  are  purely  heroic,  both  in  their 
structure  and  their  tone  ;  and  a  few  others,  such  as 
'■•  Love  survives  Life,"  and  "  The  Physician  of  his  own 
Honor,"  belong  to  the  most  terrible  ins])irations  of 
genuine  tragedy.     Twice,  in  a  different  direction,  we 


440  caldekon's  secular  comedias.      [rEuioD  ir. 

liave  operas,  -which  are  yet  nothing  Init  phiys  in 
*  374     the   national   taste,  with  music  added;'    *  and 

once  we  have  a  burlesqne  drama, —  '•  Cepha- 
his  and  Procris."  —  in  whicli,  usinu-  the  lansiuao-e 
of  the  popidace,  Calderon  parodies  an  earher  and  suc- 
cessful performance  of  his  own."  But.  in  the  great 
majority  of  cases,  the  boundaries  of  no  class  are  re- 
spected ;  and  in  many  of  them  even  more  than  two 
forms  of  the  drama  melt  imperceptibly  into  each 
other.  Especially  in  those  pieces  whose  subjects  are 
taken  from  known  history,  sacred  or  profane,  or  from 
the  recognized  fictions  of  mythology  or  romance,  there 
is  frequently  a  confusion  that  seems  as  though  it  were 
intended  to  set  all  classification  at  defiance.'^ 

iStill,  in  this  confusion  there  was  a  principle  of  order, 
and  perhaps  even  a  dramatic  theory.  For  —  if  we  ex- 
cept '-Luis  Perez  the  Galician,"  which  is  a  series  of 
sketches  to  bring;  out  the  character  of  a  notorious  rob- 
ber,  and  a  few  show  pieces,  presented  on  particular 
occasions  to  the  cornet  with  great  magnificence  —  all 
Calderon's  full-length  dramas  depend  for  their  success 

^  "  La  Pui])iira  <le  la  Kosa,"  and  "Lis  -  "  Zelos  aim  del  Ayre  iiiataii,"  whicli 

Fortunas  ile  Andromeda  y  P(M-seo,"  are  Calderon    jiarodied,    is    on    the    same 

both  of  them  plays  ill  the  national  taste,  sul)ject  with  his  "  Cephaliis  and  Pro- 

and  yet  were  snug   throughout.     The  cris,"    to   which    he    added,    not   very 

last    is    taken    from    Ovid's   iletamor-  aj)piopriately,    the    storj'    of    Erostra- 

phoses,  Lib.  IV.  and  V.,  and  was  pro-  tus  and  the  burning  of  the  temple  of 

<luced  before  the  court  with  a  magniti-  Diana. 

cent  theatrical   ajiparatus.      Th<'   first,  ■'  For   instance,   the   *'  Annas  de  la 

•which  was  written  in  honor  of  the  mar-  Hermosura,"  on  the  story  of  Coriola- 

liage  of  Louis  XIV.  witli  the  Infanta  nus  ;  and  the  "  Mayor  Encanto  Amor," 

3laria  Teresa,  IfitfO,  was  also  taken  from  on  the  .story  of  Ulysses. 

Ovid,  (Met.,  Lib.  X.)  ;  and  in  the  Ion  Four  times,   it  .should  be  ob.served, 

that  precedes  it  we  are  told  expres.sly,  Calderon  varied  in  his  Comedias  from 

"The  jilay  is  to  be  irholly  in  music,  the  fuU-leiigtli  measure  of  ihvw  Jo  nut - 

siinl  is  intended  to  /////•w/'/cc  this  style  cUis ;  viz.  in  the  "  Purpura  de  la  Kosa," 

among  us,  th  it  other  nations  ma)-  see  where  he    made    the    tirst   attempt   in 

they  liave  coinnetitors  for  those  distinc-  Opera,  and  the  "  Ciolfo  de  la  Sirenas," 

tions  of  whi(-h  they  boast."     Operas  in  which   is  a  sort  of  Piscatory  Eclogue, 

•Spain,  however,  never  had  any  pemia-  each  of  tiiem  having  only  one  Jornada  ; 

iieiit  success,  thougii  tliey  had  in  Por-  and  in  the  "  Laurel  de  Apolo,"  and  the 

tugal.     But  music  was  often  introdueed  ".Jardin  de  Faleiina,"  which  have  only 

dnto   Sjianish    dramas,    esjieciully   Cul-  two. 
<lerou's. 


ciiAP.  xxiii.]    calderon's  secular  comedias.  441 

oil  the  interci^t  excited  b}' uii  involved  plot,  eonslrueted 
out  of  surprising  incidents.*  He  avows  this  himself, 
when  he  declares  one  of  them  to  be  — 

The  most  surj)iising  tale 
AVliiili,  ill  tlio  dramas  of  Castile,  a  wit 
Acute  hath  j^et  traced  out,  and  on  the  stage 
"With  tasteful  skill  produced.^ 

*  And  again,  where  he  says  of  another, —  *  375 

This  is  a  play  of  Piulro  Caldcrou, 
Upon  whose  scene  you  never  fail  to  find 
A  hidden  lover  or  a  lady  fair 
Most  cunningly  disguised.'' 

But  to  this  principle  of  making  a  story  which  shall 
sustain  an  eager  interest  throughout  Calderon  litis  sjic- 
rificed  almost  as  much  as  Lope  cle  Yega  did.  The 
facts  of  history  and  geography  are  not  felt  for  a  mo- 
ment as  limits  or  obstacles.  Coriolanus  is  a  general 
who  has  served  under  Romulus  ;  and  Yeturia,  his  wife,, 
is  one  of  the  ravished  8abines."  The  Djinube,  which 
must  have  been  almost  as  well  kno^vn  to  a  Madrid 
audience  from  the  time  of  Charles  the  Fifth  as  the 
Tagus,  is  placed  between  Russia  and  Sweden.^  Jeru- 
salem is  on  the  sea-coast.^  Herodotus  is  made  to  de- 
scribe America.^^ 

How  absurd  all  this  was  Calderon  knew  as  well  as 
anybody.  Once,  indeed,  he  makes  a  jest  of  it  all ;  for 
one  of  his  ancient  Roman  clowns,  who  is  about  to  tell 
a  story,  begins,  — 

A  friar,  —  but  that  s  not  right,  —  there  are  no  friars 
As  yet  in  Eome.^^ 

*  Calderon  was  famous  for  what  are  **  Afeetos  de  Odio  y  Amor,  Jorn.  II. 

called  coiqjs  clc  thedtre  ;  so  famous,  that  ^  El  Mayor  Monstruo  los  Zelos,  Jorn. 

lances  de  Calderon    became   a  sort  of  III. 

proverb.  i°  La  Virgen  del   Sagrario,  Jorn.   L 

6  La  noi-eUi  ma.'s  notable  The   ])ious   bishop  who    is   here   rejjre- 

Que  en  Castellanas  comedias,  scllted   as   talking   of  America,    on    the 

SutU  el  ingenio  traza  authoritv  of  Herodotus,  is  at  the  same 

Y  gustoso  representa  ..               •             i    ^       ,■                                 •   i  ._ 

El  Alcayde  de  si  Mismo,  .Jorn.  II.  ^ime   supjio-sed    to   live   seven   or  eight 

K  ,^    1       Ti     1              11           T         TT  centuries  before  America  was  discovered- 

^  2so  liav  Burlas  con  el  Amor,  .lorn.  II. 

7  Armas  de  la  Hermosiua,  Jorn.  1.,  "  Un  fravle,-nias  no  .^  bueno,- 

-                                                              >                '■'  I'orfiue  aun  no  ay  en  Roma  fmyles. 

II-  Los  Dos  Amautes  del  Cielo,  .Torn.  III. 


442  CALDEROX'S    SECULAR    COMEDIAS.        [Pf.fik.d  II. 

Xor  is  "the  preservation  of  national  or  individual 
character,  except  perhaps  the  Moorish,  a  matter  of 
any  more  moment  in  his  eyes.  Ulysses  and  Circe  sit 
down,  as  if  in  a  saloon  at  Madrid,  and.  gathering  an 
academy  of  cavaliers  and  ladies  about  them,  discuss 
questions  of  metaphysical  gallantry.  Saint  Eugenia 
does  the  same  thing  at  Alexandria  in  the  third  cen- 
tury. And  Judas  Maccaba?us,  Herod  the  Tetrarch  of 
Judaea.  Jupangui  the  Inca  of  Peru,  and  Zenobia,  are 
all.  in  their  general  air.  as  much  Spaniards  of 
*  o76  the  time  of  Philip  the  Fourth,  as  if  *  they  had 
never  lived  anywhere  except  at  his  court.^^ 
But  we  rarely  miss  the  interest  and  charm  of  a  dra- 
matic story,  sustained  by  a  rich  and  flowing  versifica- 
tion, and  by  long  narrative  passages,  in  which  the 
most  ingenioiLs  turns  of  phraseology  are  employed  in 
order  to  provoke  curiosity  and  enchain  attention. 

No  douljt,  this  is  not  the  dramatic  interest  to  which 
■we  are  most  accustomed,  and  which  we  most  value. 
But  still  it  is  a  dramatic  interest,  and  dramatic  effects 
are  produced  by  it.  We  are  not  to  judge  Calderon  by 
the  example  of  Shakespeare,  any  more  than  we  are  to 
judge  Shakespeare  by  the  example  of  Sophocles.  The 
'■'  Arabian  Nights "  are  not  the  less  brilliant  because 
the  admirable  practical  fictions  of  Miss  Edgeworth  are 
so  different.  The  frallant  audiences  of  Madrid  still 
give  the  full  measure  of  an  intelligent  admiration  to 
the  dramas  of  Calderon,  as  their  fathers  did  ;  and  even 
the  poor  Alguacil,  who  sat  as  a  guard  of  ceremony 
on  the  statre  while  the  "•Niria  de  Gomez  Arias"  was 
acting,  was  so  deluded  by  the  cunning  of  the  scene, 
that,  when  a  noble  Spanish  ladv  was  dracrired  forward 

^  El  3Iayyr  Eucanto  Amor,  Jyiu.  II.;  El  Joseph  Je  las  Mugeres,  Jom.  III., 
etc. 


C'liAP.  XXII I.]    AMAR    DESPUES    DE    LA    MUEllTE.  443 

to  be  8old  to  the  Moors,  lie  sprang,  sword  in  hand, 
among  the  performers  to  prevent  it.^'^  It  is  in  vain  to 
say  that  dramas  which  produce  such  effects  are  not 
dramatic.  Tlie  testimony  of  two  centuries  and  of  a 
whole  nation  proves  the  contrary. 

Admitting,  then,  that  the  plays  of  Calderon  are 
really  dramas,  and  that  their  basis  is  to  be  sought  in 
the  structure  of  their  plots,  we  can  examine  them  in 
the  spirit,  at  least,  in  which  they  Avere  originally 
written.  And  if,  while  thus  inquiring  into  their  char- 
acter and  merits,  we  fix  our  attention  on  the  different 
degrees  in  which  love,  jealousy,  and  a  lofty  and  sensi- 
tive honor  and  loyalty  enter  into  their  composition  and 
give  life  and  movement  to  their  respective  actions,  we 
shall  hardly  fail  to  form  a  right  estimate  of  what  Cal- 
deron did  for  the  Spanish  secular  theatre  in  its  highest 
departments. 

*  Under  the  first  head,  —  that  of  the  passion  *  377 
of  love,  —  one  of  the  most  prominent  of  Cal- 
deron's  plays  occurs  early  in  the  collection  of  his 
works,  and  is  entitled  "  Love  survives  Life."  It  is 
founded  on  events  that  happened  in  the  rebellion  of 
the  Moors  of  Granada  which  broke  out  in  1568,  and 
though  some  passages  in  it  bear  traces  of  the  history 
of  Mendoza,^*  yet  it  is  mainly  taken  from  the  half-fan- 
ciful, half-serious  narrative  of  Hita,  where  its  chief 
details  are   recorded  as  unquestionable    facts. ^'^      The 

I''  Huerta,  Teatro  Hespanol,  Parte  IT.  i^  The  story  of  Tuzani  is  found  in 

Tom.  I.,  Prologo,  p.  vii.     La  Nina  de  Chapters  XXll.,  XXIIL,  and  XXIV. 

Gomez  Arias,  Joni.  III.  ; — a  play  for  of  the  second  volume  of  Hita's  "Guer- 

■\vhich   Calderon   owed  much   to    Luis  ras  de  Granada,"  and  is  the  best  part 

Velez  de  Guevara.  of  it.     Ilita  says  he  had  the  account 

1*  Compare  the  eloquent  speeches  of  from  Tuzani  hims(;lf,  long  afterwards, 

El  Zaguer,  in  Mendoza,  ed.  1776,  Lib.  at  Madrid,  and  it  is  not  unlikely  that 

I.  p.  29,  and  Malec,  in  Calderon,  .lorn.  a  gi-eat  part  of  it  is  true.     Calderon, 

I.  ;  or  the  description  of  the  Alpujarras,  though  sometimes  using  its  verj'^  word.s, 

in  the  same  Jornada,  with  tliat  of  Men-  makes  considerable  alterations  in  it,  to 

doza,  p.  43,  etc.  bring  it  within  the  forms  of  the  drama  ; 


444  AMAR   DESPUES    DE    LA   MUERTE.         [Period  IL 

action  occupies  about  five  years,  beginning  three 
years  before  the  absolute  outbreak  of  the  insurgents, 
and  ending  with  their  final  overthrow. 

The  first  act  passes  in  the  city  of  Granada,  and 
explains  the  intention  of  the  conspirators  to  throw  off 
the  Spanish  yoke,  which  had  become  intolerable.  Tu- 
zani,  the  hero,  is  quickly  brought  to  the  foreground  of 
the  piece  by  his  attachment  to  Clara  Malec,  whose 
aged  father,  dishonored  by  a  blow  from  a  Spaniard, 
causes  the  rebellion  to  break  out  somewhat  prema- 
turely. Tuzani  at  once  seeks  the  haughty  offender. 
A  duel  follows,  and  is  described  with  great  spirit ;  but 
it  is  interrupted,^^  and  the  parties  separate  to  renew 
their  quarrel  on  a  bloodier  theatre. 

The  second  act  opens  three  years  afterwards,  in  the 

mountains  south  of  Granada,  where  the  insur- 
*  378    gents  are  *  strongly  posted,  and  w^here  they  are 

attacked  by  Don  John  of  Austria,  represented 
as  coming  fresh  from  the  great  victory  at  Lepanto, 
which  yet  happened,  as  Calderon  and  his  audience 
well  knew,  a  year  after  this  rebellion  was  quelled. 
The  marriage  of  Tuzani  and  Clara  is  hardly  celebrated,, 
when  he  is  hurried  away  from  her  by  one  of  the 
chances  of  war ;  the  fortress  where  the  ceremonies  had 
taken   place  falling  suddenly  into  the    hands  of  the 

but  the  leading  facts  are  the  same  in  tied,   "  De   Poeseos  Dramaticae  genera 

both  cases,   and  the  story  belongs  to  Hispanico,  prtesertim  de  Petro  Calde- 

Hita.  rone  de  la  Barca  "  (Hafnise,  1817, 12mo, 

1^  While  they  are  fighting  in  a  room,  pp.  158).  Its  author,  Joannes  Ludovi- 
with  locked  doors,  suddenly  there  is  a  cus  Heiberg,  who  was  then  only  twenty- 
great  bustle  and  calling  ■w'ithout.  Men-  six  years  old,  has  since  been  a  distin- 
doza,  the  Spaniard,  asks  his  adversaiy  :  guished  Danish  poet  and  dramatist,  as 

his  father  had  been  before  liim.     He 

What  "s  to  be  done?  regards  the  two  great  characteristics  of 

'^""'-  ^^:^i:^'^Z:r'^'^^  Calderon  to  have  been  his  nationality 

Mendoza.                                        Well  said,  find  his  romantic  spint,  and,  under  the 

impulse  of  these  attributes,  he  adds,  as 

The  spirited  opening  of  many  of  Cal-  his  final  conclusion:    "Drama  Calde- 

deron's  plays  is  noticed,  as  it  may  be  rouicum  est  Drama  Hispanicum  gentile 

observed  here,  in  a  well-considered  Lat-  ad  summam  perfectionem  perductum." 

in  Essay  on  his  poetical  merits,  enti-  p.  145. 


Chap.  XXIIl.]     AMAR    DESPUES    DE    LA    MUERTE.  445 

Spaniards.  Clara,  who  had  remahied  in  it,  is  mur- 
dered in  the  milte  by  a  Spanish  soldier  for  the  sake  of 
her  rich  bridal  jewels  ;  and  though  Tuzani  arrives  in 
season  to  witness  her  death,  he  is  too  late  to  intercept 
or  recoi»:nize  the  murderer. 

From  this  moment  darkness  settles  on  the  scene. 
Tuzani's  character  changes,  or  seems  to  change,  in  an 
instant,  and  his  whole  Moorish  nature  is  stirred  to  its 
deepest  foundations.  The  surface,  it  is  true,  remains, 
for  a  time,  as  calm  as  ever.  He  disguises  himself 
carefully  in  Castilian  armor,  and  glides  into  the  en- 
emy's camp  in  quest  of  vengeance,  with  that  fearfully 
cool  resolution  which  marks,  indeed,  the  predominance 
of  one  great  passion,  but  shows  that  all  the  others  are 
roused  to  contribute  to  its  concentrated  energy.  The 
ornaments  of  Clara  enable  her  lover  to  trace  out  the 
murderer.  But  he  makes  himself  perfectly  sure  of  his 
proper  victim  by  coolly  listening  to  a  minute  descrip- 
tion of  Clara's  beauty  and  of  the  circumstances  attend- 
ing her  death  ;  and  when  the  Spaniard  ends  by  saying, 
"  I  pierced  her  heart,"  Tuzani  springs  upon  him  like  a 
tiger,  crying  out,  "  And  was  the  blow  like  this  ? "  — 
and  strikes  him  dead  at  his  feet.  The  Moor  is  sur- 
rounded, and  is  recognized  by  the  Spaniards  as  the 
fiercest  of  their  enemies ;  but,  even  from  the  very 
presence  of  Don  John  of  Austria,  he  cuts  his  way 
through  all  opposition,  and  escapes  to  the  mountains. 
Hita  says  he  afterwards  knew  him  personally. 

The  power  of  this  painful  tragedy  consists  in  the 
living  impression  it  gives  us  of  a  pure  and  elevated 
love,  contrasted  with  the  wild  elements  of  the  age  in 
which  it  is  placed ;  —  the  whole  being  idealized  by 
passing  through  Calderon's  excited  imagination, 
but   still,    in    the    main,    *  taken   from  history    *  370 


446 


AMAR    DESPUES    DE    LA    MUERTE.         [Peuioi)  II. 


and  restino-  on  known  facts.  Reo-arded  in  this  Ijo-ht, 
it  is  a  solemn  exhibition  of  \iolence,  disaster,  and 
hopeless  rebellion,  through  whose  darkening  scenes  we 
are  led  b}'  that  burning  love  which  has  marked  the 
Arab  wherever  he  has  been  found,  and  by  that  proud 
sense  of  honor  which  did  not  forsake  him  as  he  slowly 
retired,  disheartened  and  defeated,  from  the  rich  em- 
pire he  had  so  long  enjoyed  in  Western  Europe.  We 
are  even  hurried  by  the  course  of  the  drama  into  the 
presence  of  whatever  is  most  odious  in  war,  and  slioidd 
be  revolted,  as  we  are  made  to  witness,  wdth  our  own 
eyes,  its  guiltiest  horrors  ;  but  in  the  midst  of  all,  the 
form  of  Clara  rises,  a  beautiful  vision  of  womanly  love, 
before  Avhose  gentleness  the  tumults  of  the  conflict 
seem,  at  least,  to  l^e  hushed ;  while,  from  first  to  last, 
in  the  characters  of  Don  John  of  Austria,  Lo^De  de 
Figueroa,  ^'  and  Garces,  on  one  side,  and  the  venerable 
Malec  and  the  fiery  Tuzani,  on  the  other,  we  are 
dazzled   by  a  show  of  the  times  that  Calderon  brings 


'"  Tlii.s  cliaraotor  of  Lope  de  Figueroa 
may  serve  as  a  specimen  of  the  way  in 
which  Calderon  gave  life  and  interest 
to  many  of  his  dramas.  Lojie  is  an  his- 
torical i)ersonage,  and  figures  largely  in 
the  second  volume  of  Hita's  "  Guer- 
ras,"  as  well  as  elsewhere.  He  was 
the  commander  under  whom  Cervantes 
served  in  Italy,  and  probahly  in  Portu- 
gal, when  lie  was  in  the  Tcrcio  de 
Fldndes,  —  the  Flanders  regiment,  — 
one  of  the  best  bodies  of  troops  in  the 
armies  of  Pliilip  II.  Lo])e  de  Figueroa 
appears  again,  and  still  more  promi- 
nently, in  another  good  jilay  of  Calde- 
ron, "El  Alcalde  de  Zalamea,"  jiub- 
lished  as  early  as  16.53,  but  the  last  iu 
the  common  collection.  Its  hero  is  a 
]teasant,  finely  sketched,  partly  from 
Lope  de  Vega's  Mendo,  in  the  "Cu- 
erdo  en  su  Casa  "  ;  and  it  is  said  at  the 
einl  that  it  is  a  true  story,  whose  scene 
is  laiil  in  L')81,  at  the  very  time  Philiji 
IL  was  advancing  toward  Lisbon,  and 
when  Cervantes  was  probably  with  this 
regiment  at  Zalamea. 


It  should  be  added,  that  Calderon, 
in  this  ])lay,  is  much  indebted  to  Lope's 
"Alcalde  de  Zalamea,"  of  whicli  a  copy 
is  to  be  found  at  Holland  House,  but 
which  I  have  not  met  with  elsewhere. 
Nor  is  this  a  solitary  instance  of  such 
indebtedness.  On  the  contrary,  like 
most  of  his  contemporaries  in  the  same 
position,  he  borrowed  freely  from  his 
])iedecessors.  Thus,  his  "  Cabellos  de 
Absalon "  is  much  taken  from  Tirso's 
"  Venganza  de  Tamar"  ;  his  "Medico 
de  .su  Honra  "  is  indebted  for  its  story 
to  a  play  of  Lojjc  with  the  same  name, 
very  little  known;  his  "Nina  de  Go- 
mez Arias"  is  partly  from  a  ])lay  with 
the  same  name  by  Luis  Velez  de  Gue- 
vara, and  so  of  others.  How  far  such 
free  borrowing  was,  under  the  circum- 
stances of  the  case,  and  the  opinion  of 
tlie  times,  justifiable,  we  can  hardly 
tell.  Stealing  it  could  not  have  been, 
for  it  was  too  openly  done  and  the  au- 
diences of  the  court  and  city  understood 
it  all.  Schack,  Nachtrage,  1854,  pp. 
82-87. 


Chav.  XXIll.j  EL    MEDICO    DE    SU    IIOXRA.  447 

before  us,  and  of  the  passions  wiiicli  deeply  marked  the 
two  most  romantic  nations  that  were  ever  brought  into 
a  conflict  so  direct. 

The  phiy  of  "Love  survives  Life/'  so  far  as  its  j^lot 
is  concerned,  is  founded  on  the  passionate  love 
of  Tuzani  *  and  Chxra,  without  any  intermixture  *  380 
of  the  workings  of  jealousy,  or  any  questions 
arising,  in  the  course  of  that  love,  from  an  over-excited 
feeling  of  honor.  This  is  rare  in  Calderon,  whose 
dramas  are  almost  always  complicated  in  their  intrigue 
by  the  addition  of  one  or  both  of  these  principles ; 
giving  the  story  sometimes  a  tragic  and  sometimes 
a  happy  conclusion.  It  should  be  noted,  however,  to 
his  honor,  that  throughout  the  whole  play  of  "  Love 
survives  Life  "  he  renders  the  Moorish  character  a  gen- 
erous justice,  which  Avas  denied  to  it  by  Cervantes  and 
Lope  de  Vega. 

One  of  the  best-known  and  most  admired  of  these 
mixed  dramas  is  "  The  Physician  of  his  own  Honor," 
printed  in  1637, —  a  play  whose  scene  is  laid  in  the 
time  of  Peter  the  Cruel,  but  one  which  seems  to  have 
no  foundation  in  known  facts,  and  in  which  the  mon- 
arch has  an  elevation  given  to  his  character  not  war- 
ranted by  history .^^  His  brother,  Henry  of  Trasta- 
mara,  is  represented  as  having  been  in  love  with  a 
lady  who,  notwithstanding  his  lofty  pretensions,  is 
given  in  marriage  to  Don  Gutierre  de  Soils,  a  Spanish 
nobleman  of  high  rank  and  sensitive  honor.  She  is 
sincerely  attached  to  her  husband,  and  true  to  him. 
But  the  prince  is  accidentally  thrown  into  her  presence. 

^^  About  this  time,  there  was  a  strong  and  of  which  traces  may  be  found  in 

disposition  shown  by  the  overweening  Moreto,  and  the  other  dramatists  of  the 

sensibility  of  Spanish  loyalty  to  relieve  reign  of  Philip  IV.     Peter  the  Cruel 

the  memory  of  Peter  the  Cruel  from  tlie  a])pears  also  in  tlie"Nina  de  Plata" 

heavy  imputations  left  resting  on  it  liy  of  Lope  de  Vega,  but  with  less  strongly 

Pedro  de  Ayala,  of  which  I  have  taken  marked  attributes, 
notice,  (Period  I.  Chap.    IX.,   note  18,) 


448  EL    MEDICO    DE    SU    IIOXKA.  [Tevaob  IL 

His  passion  is  revived ;  he  visits  her  ag«T.in,  contrary  to 
her  will  ,•  he  leaves  his  dagger,  by  chance,  in  her  apart- 
ment ;  and,  the  suspicions  of  the  husband  being  roused^ 
she  is  anxious  to  avert  any  further  danger,  and  begins, 
for  this  purpose,  a  letter  to  her  lover,  which  her  hus- 
band seizes  before  it  is  finished.  His  decision  is  in- 
stantly taken.  Nothing  can  be  more  deep  and  tender 
than  his  love  ;  l)ut  his  honor  is  unaljle  to  endure  the 
idea,  that  his  wife,  even  before  her  marriage,  had  been 
interested  in  another,  and  that  after  it  she  had  seen 
him  privately.      When,    therefore,   she    awakes    from 

the  swoon  into  which  she  had  fallen  at  the  mo- 
*  381    ment  he  tore  from  her  *  the  equivocal  beginning 

of  her  letter,  she  finds  at  her  side  a  note  con- 
taining only  these  fearful  words  :  — 

My  love  adores  thee,  but  my  honor  hates  ; 
And  while  the  one  must  strike,  the  other  warns. 
Two  houi-s  hast  thou  of  life.     Thy  soul  is  Christ's  ; 
O,  save  it,  for  thy  life  thou  canst  not  save  !  ^^ 

At  the  end  of  these  two  fatal  hours,  Gutierre  returns 
with  a  surQ-eon,  whom  he  brino-s  to  the  door  of  the 
room  in  which  he  had  left  his  wife. 

Don  Gutierre.  Look  in  upon  this  room.     What  seest  thou  there  ? 
Surgeon.  A  death-like  image,  pale  and  still,  I  see. 

That  rests  upon  a  couch.     On  either  side 

A  taper  lit,  while  right  before  her  stands 

The  holy  crucifix.     Who  it  may  be 

I  cannot  say  ;  the  face  mth  gauze-like  silk 

Is  covered  quite.'^ 

Gutierre,  with  the  most  violent  threats,  requires  him  to 
enter  the  room  and  bleed  to  death  the  person  who  has 

19  El  amor  te  adora,  el  honor  tc  aborrecc,  De  la  muerte,  un  bulto  tco, 

Y  a/si  el  uno  te  mata,  y  el  otro  te  avisa  :  Que  Fobre  una  cama  yaze  ; 

Dos  honui  tienes  de  viila  ;  Christiana  erefl  ;  Dos  vt-las  tiene  a  los  lados 

Salva  el  alma,  que  la  vicla  cs  iniposible.  Y  un  Crucifixo  delante  : 

Jom   in.  Quien  es,  no  puedo  derir, 
Que  con  unos  tafetancs 

SO  Don  Gutierrez.  Asomate  4  esse  aposento ;  ^  ^°^^^  ''<^"«  cubierto. 
Que  ves  en  i-l  ?     LwJ.  Una  imagen  Ibid. 


€hap.  XXin.]  EL    MKDICO    DE    SU    IIONRA.  449 

thus  laid  lierself  out  for  interment.  He  goes  in  and 
accomplishes  the  will  of  her  husband,  without  the  least 
resistance  on  the  part  of  his  victim.  But  when  he  is 
conducted  away,  blindfold  as  he  came,  he  impresses  his 
bloody  hand  upon  the  door  of  the  house,  that  he  may 
recognize  it  again,  and  immediately  reveals  to  the  king 
the  horrors  of  the  scene  he  has  just  passed  through. 

The  king  rushes  to  the  lioiLse  of  Gutierre,  who  as- 
cribes the  death  of  his  wife  to  accident,  not  from  the 
least  desire  to  conceal  the  part  he  himself  had  in  it, 
but  from  an  unwillingness  to  explain  his  conduct,  by 
confessing  reasons  for  it  which  involved  his  honor. 
The  king  makes  no  direct  reply,  but  requires  him 
instantly  to  marry  Leonore,  a  lady  then  present,  whom 
Outierre  was  bound  in  honor  to  have  married  long 
before,  and  who  had  already  made  known  to 
*  the  king  her  complaints  of  his  falsehood.  Gu-  *  382 
tierre  hesitates,  and  asks  what  he  should  do,  if 
the  prince  should  visit  his  wife  secretly  and  she  should 
venture  afterwards  to  write  to  him ;  intending  by  these 
intimations  to  inform  the  king  what  were  the  real  causes 
of  the  bloody  sacrifice  before  him,  and  that  he  would 
not  willingly  expose  himself  to  their  recurrence.  But 
the  king  is  peremptory,  and  the  drama  ends  with  the 
following  extraordinary  scene. 

Khuj.  There  is  a  remedy  for  everj'  wrong. 

Don  Gutierre.   A  remedy  for  such  a  wrong  as  this  ? 

King.  Yes,  Gutien-e. 

Don  Gutierre.  ily  lord  !  wliat  is  it  ? 

King.  'T  is  of  your  own  invention,  sir  ! 

Don  Gutierre.  But  what  ? 

King.  'T  is  blood. 

Don  Gutierre.  What  mean  your  royal  words,  my  lord  ? 

King.  No  more  but  this  ;  cleanse  straight  your  doors,  — 

A  bloody  hand  is  on  them. 
Don  Gutierre.  My  lord,  when  men 

In  any  business  and  its  duties  deal, 
VOL.   ir.  29 


450  EL    PIXTOK    UE    SU    DESIIOXRA.  [Peiuod  II. 

Tlu'V  place  their  ann.s  escutcheoned  on  their  doors. 

/  deal,  my  lord,  in  honor,  and  so  place 

A  bloody  hand  upou-nij-  door  to  mark 

My  honor  is  my  blood  made  good. 
King.  Then  give  thy  hand  to  Leonore. 

I  know  her  Airtue  hath  deserved  it  long. 
Don  Guticrre.   I  give  it,  sire.     But,  mark  me,  Leonore, 

It  comes  all  bathed  in  blood. 
Leonore.  I  heed  it  not ; 

And  neither  fear  nor  wonder  at  the  sight. 
Don  Guticrre.  And  mark  me,  too,  that,  if  already  once 

Unto  mine  honor  I  have  proved  a  leech, 

I  do  not  mean  to  lose  my  skill. 
Leonore.  ^a}-,  rather, 

\i  my  life  prove  tainted,  use  that  same  skill 

To  heal  it. 
Don  Guticrre.  1  give  my  hand  ;  but  give  it 

On  the.se  terms  alone. -^ 

*  383'  *  Undoubtedly  such  a  scene  could  be  acted  only 
on  the  Spanish  stage  ;  but  undoubtedly,  too,  not- 
withstanding its  violation  of  every  principle  of  Chris- 
tian moralit}',  it  is  entirely  in  the  national  temper, 
and  has  been  received  with  applause  down  to  oiu'  own 
times.-" 

"The  Painter  of  his  own  Dishonor"  is  another  of  the 
dramas  founded  on  love,  jealousy,  and  the  point  of 
honor,  in  which  a  husband  sacrifices  his  faithless  wife 
and  her  lover,  and  yet  receives  the  thanks  of  each  of 
their  fathers,  who,  in  the  spirit  of  Spanish  chivahy,  not 
only  approve  the  sacrifice  of  their  own  children,  but 
offer  their  persons  to  the  injured  husband  to  defend 

21    Rey.        Para  toJo  avr.i  remedio.  Que  yo  ?»■  que  i^u  aliihaniM 

D.Gut.   Posible  fs  que  i  f.sto  le  aya ?  I>a  inerec-o.     D.Giit.  ."'ijladoy. 

Rey.        Si,Gutierre      Z).  Gh/.  Qual,  .Senor?  Mas  mira  que  va  banada 

Rey.        TJno  vuestro.     D.Gut.  Quees?  Kn  sanfrro,  Ijeonor. 

Rey.       Sangrarla.     D.Gut.  Que  dices?  Leon.      No  iinporta, 

Rey.        Que  liaf^is  liorrar  Que  no  me  admira.  ni  espanta. 

Ijas  puerta-s  de  vue.stra  ca.«a,  D.  Gut.  Mira  que  medico  he  sido 

Que  ay  mano  wmprienta  en  cllas.  De  mi  honni :  no  est.'i  olvidada 

D.Gut.  lyos  que  de  un  oficio  tratan,  Li  cienria.     Linn.  Cura  con  ella 

Ponen,  .*enor,  k  \;\»  puertas  Mi  vida  en  estando  mala. 

Un  esPudo  de  fus  arma/i.  D.  Gut.  Pue-s  con  e.-^sa  condicion 

Trato  en  honor  :  y  assi,  pongo  Te  la  doy. 

Mi  mano  en  sanc're  banada  Jorn.  III. 

A  la  pnerta,  one  el  honor  .»    ,i  i-i   ai  '  ]•         i            u            >>  /-i 

Con  sanpre,  ,«enor,  se  laba.  .  "        ^'^  iMedieo  de  su  Honra,     Come- 

Rty.       Dadsela,  pues,  i  I/conor,  dias,  Tom.  A  I. 


CiiAP.  XXIIl.]     EL  MAYOR  MONSTRUO  LO.S  ZELOS.  4'jl 

him  against  any  clangers  to  which  he  may  be  exi)osed 
in  consequence  of  the  murders  he  has  committed.^^ 
"  For  a  Secret  Wrong,  Secret  Revenge,"  is  yet  a  third 
piece,  belonging  to  the  same  chass,  and  ending  tragi- 
call}'  hke  the  two  others.-^ 

But  as  a  specimen  of  the  effects  of  mere  jealousy, 
and  of  the  power  with  which  Calderon  could  bring  on 
the  stage  its  terrible  workings,  the  drama  he  lias  called 
"  No  Monster  like  Jealousy  "  is  to  be  preferred  to  any- 
thing else  he  has  left  us."^  It  is  founded  on  the  well- 
known  stor}',  in  Josephus,  of  the  cruel  jealousy  of 
Herod,  Tetrarch  of  Judaea,  who  twice  gave  orders 
to  *  have  his  wife,  Mariamne,  destroyed,  in  case  *  384 
he  himself  should  not  escajDe  alive  from  the 
perils  to  which  he  was  exposed  in  his  successive  con- 
tests with  Antony  and  Octavius ;  —  all  out  of  dread 
lest,  after  his  death,  she  should  be  possessed  by  an- 
other.^^ 

In  the   early  scenes  of  Calderon's  drama,  w^e   find 
Herod,  wath  this  passionately  cherished  wife,  alarmed 

•23  "  El  Piutor  (le  su  Deshonra,"  Co-  4to, — written,  I  believe,  by  a  person 

medias,    Tom.    XI.      A  tran.slation    of  named   Cavaleri.     One   reason   alleged 

this  play  into  German,  with  one  of  the  by  him  in  favor  of  acting  it  was,  that 

"  Dicha  y  Desdicha  del  Nombre,"  was  two   distinguished  German   gentlemen 

pnblished  in  Berlin  in  1850,  in  a  small  were  then  in  the  city,  who  were  very 

volume,  as  a  supplement  to  the  trans-  anxious  to  witness  the  performance  of  a 

lations  of  Gries  from  Calderon.     They  ])lay  of  Calderon,  and  had  not  been  able 

are  both  made  with  lightness  and  taste  ;  to  do  so,  though  they  liad  been  some 

and  their  author  —  a  lady  deceased —  time  travelling  in  Spain,  and  had  passed 

pnblished  in  1825  translations  of  the  a  month  in   Madrid, — so  rarely  were 

"Nina  de  Gomez  Arias,"  and  of  the  any  plays  of  Calderon  then  represented. 
"Galan  Fantasma."  '^s  "El  Mayor  Monstruo  los  Zelos," 

2*  "  A  Secret©  Agravio,  Secreta  Ven-  Comedias,  Tom.  V. 
ganza,"  Comedias,  Tom.  VI.,  was  print-  '^'^  Josephus  de  Bello  Judaico,  Lib.  I. 

ed   in    1637.       Calderon,    at   the   end,  c.  17-22,  and  Antiq.  Judaicse,  Lib.  XV. 

vouches  for  the  truth  of  the  .shocking  c .  2,  etc.     A'"oltaire  has  taken  the  same 

story,  which  he  represents  as  founded  .story  for  the  subject  of  his  "Mariamne," 

on  facts  that  occurred  at  Lisbon  just  l)e-  first  acted  in  1724.     There  is  a  ])leasant 

fore  the  embarkation  of  Don  Sebastian  criticism  on  the  2)lay  of  Calderon  in  a 

ibr  Africa,    in   1578.      Some   objection  pamphlet  pul)lislicd  at  Madrid,  by  Don 

was  made  to  acting  tliis  play  at  C;idiz  A.  Duraii,  witliout  his  name,   in   1828, 

in  1818,  on  account  of  its  Immorality,  ]8mo,   entitled,  "  Sobre  el   Inilujo  que 

but  it  was  defended  in  a  short  tract  en-  ha  tenido  la  Critica  Moderna  en  la  Do 

titled  "Discurso  en  Razon  de  la  Tra-  cadencia  del  Teatro  Antiguo  Espahol,  ' 

gedia,  A  Secreto  Agravio,"  ec,  pp.  12,  pp.  lUt)-112. 


452  EL  MAYOR  MOXSTRUO  LOS  ZELOS.         [Period  IL 

by  a  prediction  that  he  should  destroy,  with  his  own 
dagger,  what  he  most  loved  in  the  world,  and  that 
Mariamne  should  be  sacrificed  to  the  most  formidable 
of  monsters.  At  the  same  time  we  are  informed,  that 
the  tetrarch,  in  the  excess  of  his  passion  for  his  fair 
and  lovely  wife,  aspires  to  nothing  less  than  the  mas- 
tery of  the  world,  —  then  in  dispute  between  Antony 
and  Octavius  Cassar,  —  and  that  he  covets  this  empire 
only  to  be  able  to  lay  it  at  her  feet.  To  obtain  his 
end,  he  partly  joins  his  fortunes  to  those  of  Antonv, 
and  fails.  Octavius,  discovering  his  purpose,  summons 
him  to  Egypt  to  render  an  account  of  his  government. 
But  among  the  plunder  which,  after  the  defeat  of 
Antony,  fell  into  the  hands  of  his  rival,  is  a  portrait 
of  Mariamne,  with  which  the  Roman  becomes  so  en- 
amored, though  flilsely  advised  that  the  original  is  dead, 
that,  when  Herod  arrives  in  Egypt,  he  finds  the  picture 
of  his  wife  multiplied  on  all  sides,  and  Octavius  full  of 
love  and  despair. 

Herod's  jealousj'  is  now  equal  to  his  unmeasured 
affection ;  and,  finding  that  Octavius  is  about  to  move 
towards  Jerusalem,  he  gives  himself  up  to  its  terrible 
power.  In  his  blind  fear  and  grief,  he  sends  an  old  and 
trusty  friend,  with  written  orders  to  destroy  Mariamne 
in  case  of  his  own  death,  but  adds  passionately, — 

Let  her  not  know  the  mandate  comes  from  nxc 
That  bids  her  die.     Let  her  not  —  while  she  cries 
To  Heaven  for  vengeance  —  name  me  as  she  falls. 

*  385    *  His  faithful  follower  would  remonstrate,  but 
Herod  interrupts  him  :  — 

Be  silent.     You  are  right ;  — 
But  still  I  cannot  listen  to  your  words  ;  — 

and  then  goes  off  in  despair,  exclaiming,  — 

0  mighty  spheres  above  !     0  sun  !     0  moon 

And  stars  !     0  clouds,  with  hail  and  sharp  frost  charged  ! 


Chap.  XXIII. J     EL  MAYOR  MONSTRUO  LOS  ZELOS.  453 

Is  there  110  iiery  thuiiderljolt  in  store 
For  such  a  wretch  as  I  ?     O  mighty  Jove  ! 
For  what  canst  thou  tliy  vengeance  still  reserve, 
If  now  it  strike  not  ?  ^^ 

But  Mariamne  obtains  secretly  a  knowledge  of  his 
purpose ;  and,  when  he  arrives  in  the  neighborliood 
of  Jerusalem,  gracefully  and  successfully  begs  his  life 
of  Octavius,  who  is  well  pleased  to  do  a  favor  to  the 
fair  original  of  the  portrait  he  had  ignorantly  loved, 
and  is  magnanimous  enough  not  to  destro}^  a  rival, 
who  had  yet  by  treason  forfeited  all  right  to  his  for- 
bearance. 

As  soon,  however,  as  Mariamne  has  secured  the 
promise  of  her  husband's  safety,  she  retires  with  him 
to  the  most  private  part  of  her  palace,  and  there,  in 
her  grieved  and  outraged  love,  upbraids  him  with  his 
design  upon  her  life  ;  announcing,  at  the  same  time, 
her  resolution  to  shut  herself  up  from  that  moment, 
with  her  women,  in  widowed  solitude  and  perpetual 
mourning.  But  the  same  night  Octavius  gains  access 
to  her  retirement,  in  order  to  protect  her  from  the 
violence  of  her  husband,  which  he,  too,  had  discovered. 
She  refuses,  however,  to  admit  to  him  that  her  husband 
can  have  any  design  against  her  life ;  and  defends  both 
her  lord  and  herself  with  heroic  love.  She  then  escapes, 
pursued  by  Octavius,  and  at  the  same  instant  her  hus- 
band enters.  He  follows  them,  and  a  conflict  ensues 
instantly.  The  lights  are  extinguished,  and  in 
the  confusion  Mariamne  falls  under  a  blow  *  from  *  386 
her  husband's  hand,  intended  for  his  rival ;  thus 
fulfilling  the  prophecy  at  the  opening  of  the  play,  that 


r  Calla, 

Que  s(5,  que  tienes  razon, 
Pero  no  puedo  escucharla. 

Esferas  altas, 
Cielo,  sol,  luna  y  estrellas, 


Nubes,  granizo.s,  y  escarchas, 
No  hay  un  rayo  para  un  triste  ? 
Pucs  .«i  aora  no  los  pistas, 
Para  quando,  para  quando 
Son,  Jupiter,  tus  venganzas? 

Jorn.  II. 


454  EL  MAYOR  MONSTKUO  LOS  ZELOS.         [Pkuiud  1L 

ylie  should  perish  b}'  his  dagger  and  ])\'  the  most  for- 
midable of  monsters,  which  is  now  interpreted  to  be 
Jealousy. 

The  result,  though  foreseen,  is  artfully  brought  about 
at  last,  and  produces  a  great  shock  on  the  spectator, 
and  even  on  the  reader.  Indeed,  it  does  not  seem  as 
if  this  fierce  and  relentless  passion  could  be  carried,  on 
the  stage,  to  a  more  terrible  extremity.  Othello's 
jealousy  —  with  which  it  is  most  readily  compared  — 
is  of  a  lower  kind,  and  appeals  to  grosser  fears.  But 
that  of  Herod  is  admitted,  from  the  beginning,  to  be 
w^ithout  any  foundation,  except  the  dread  that  his  wife, 
after  his  death,  should  be  possessed  hy  a  rival,  whom, 
before  his  death,  she  could  never  have  seen;  —  a  tran- 
scendental jealousy  to  which  he  is  j^t  willing  to  sacri- 
fice her  innocent  life. 

Still,  different  as  are  the  two  dramas,  there  are  sev- 
eral points  of  accidental  coincidence  between  them. 
Thus,  w^e  have,  in  the  Spanish  play,  a  night  scene,  in 
which  her  women  undress  Mariamne,  and,  wdiile  her 
thoughts  are  full  of  forebodings  of  her  fiite,  sing  to  her 
those  lines  of  Escriva  which  are  among  the  choice 
snatches  of  old  poetry  found  in  the  earliest  of  the 
General  Cancioneros :  — 

Come,  Death,  but  gently  come  and  still ;  — 

All  sound  of  thine  approach  restrain, 
Lest  joy  of  thee  my  heart  should  fill, 

And  tui-n  it  back  to  life  again  ;  ^  — 

beautiful  wonls,  which  remind  us  of  the  scene  imme- 
diately preceding  the  death  of  Desdemona,  when  she 

28  Yen,  muert<?,  tan  fispondida,  again;  and  Cancioncro  General,  1573, 
Que  no  te  Fienta  venir,  f  jgg      l        de  Vega  made  a  gloss  on 
Pornuo  t'l  plao«r  del  monr  ..      ,^,          ',„            v,  tt             n-t'  \         i 
No  ine  buelva  a  dar  la  vida.  it,    (Obras,     Tom.    XIII.    p.    236,)    and 
Jom.  III.  Cervantes    repeats    it    (Don    Quixote, 
Parte  II.  c.  38)  ;  —  so  much  was  it  ad- 
See,  also,  Calderon's  "Manos  Blaneas  mired.     See,  also,  llalaspina's  "Fuerza 
no  ofenden,"  Jom.  II.,  where  he  has  it  de  la  Verdad,"  Jorn.  I. 


C'jiAi'.  XXIII.]    EL  MAYOR  MONISTRUO  LOS  ZELOS. 


455 


is  imdressing   and  talks  with  Emilia,  singing,  at  the 
same  time,  the  old  song  of  "Willow,  Willow." 

Again,  we  are  reminded  of  the  defence  of  Othello  by 
Desdemona  down  to  the  instant  of  her  death,  in 
the  answer  *of  Mariamne  to  Octavius,  when  he    *  387 
m^ges  her  to  escape  with  him  from  the  violence 
of  her  husband  :  — 

My  lips  were  dumb,  when  I  beheld  thy  form  ; 

And  now  I  hear  thy  words,  my  breatli  returns 

Only  to  tell  thee,  't  is  some  traitor  foul 

And  perjured  that  has  dared  to  liU  thy  mind 

With  this  abhorred  conceit.     For,  Siie,  my  husband 

Is  my  husband  ;  and  if  he  slay  me, 

I  am  guiltless,  which,  in  the  flight  you  urge, 

I  could  not  be.     I  dwell  in  safety  here, 

And  you  are  ill  informed  about  my  griefs  ; 

Or,  if  you  are  not,  and  the  dagger's  point 

Should  seek  my  life,  I  die  not  through  my  fault, 

But  through  my  star's  malignant  potenc)^, 

Preferring  in  my  heart  a  guiltless  death 

Before  a  life  held  up  to  vulgar  scorn. 

If,  therefore,  you  vouchsafe  me  any  grace, 

Let  me  presume  the  greatest  grace  wor;ld  be 

That  you  should  straightway  leave  me.^' 

Other  passages  might  be  adduced ;  but,  though  strik- 
ing, they  do  not  enter  into  the  essential  interest  of  the 
drama.  This  consists  in  the  exhibition  of  the  heroic 
character  of  Herod,  broken  down  by  a  cruel  jealousy, 
over  which  the  beautiful  innocence  of  his  wife  triumphs 
only  at  the  moment  of  her  death ;  while  above  them 
both  the  fatal  dagger,  like  the  unrelenting  destiny  of 
the  ancient  Greek  tragedy,  hangs  suspended,  seen  only 


29  El  labio  muclo 

QiumIo  al  veros,  y  al  oiros 

Su  alionto  le  restituyo, 

Aniniada  para  solo 

I)«firos,  que  algun  perjuro 

Aleve,  y  traytlor,  en  tiinto 

'M:ili|iii<t(i  (•(inceptn  (is  puso. 

Mi  i-s)i(is(i  cs  mi  e>|K)so ;  y  quamlo 

Me  iii.ite  aljiiiii  error  suyo, 

No  mo  iiiatarA  mi  error, 

y  lo  seri  si  del  huyo 

Yo  estoy  segura,  y  vos  nial 

Informado  en  mis  disgustos ; 


Y  quando  no  lo  estuviera, 
Matiindome  un  piinal  duro, 
Mi  error  no  me  dieni  muerte, 
Sino  mi  fatal  infinxo  ; 

Con  que  viene  .V  iniportar  nienos 
Morir  inocente,  juzgo, 
Que  Tivir  culpada  u  vista 
De  las  malieias  del  vulgo. 

Y  assi,  si  alguna  fineza 
lie  de  deberos,  presume, 
Que  la  mayor  es  bolveros. 

Jorn.  m. 


45G  EL    rRi>'CIPE    CONSTANTE.  [Pkiuud  II. 

by  the  spectators,  who  witness  the  unavailing  struggles 
of  its  victims  to  escape  from  a  fate  in  which,  with  every 
effort,  they  become  more  and  mure  involved.*^ 

Other  dramas  of  Calderon  rely  for  their  success  on 

a  high  sense  of  loj'alty,  with  little  or  no  admix- 
*  388    ture  of  love  *  or  jealousy.    The  most  prominent 

of  these  is  "  The  Firm-hearted  Prince."  ^^  Its 
plot  is  founded  on  the  expedition  against  the  Moors  in 
Africa  by  the  Portuguese  Infiinte  Don  Ferdinand,  in 
1437,  which  ended  with  the  total  defeat  of  the  invaders 
before  Tangier,  and  the  captivity  of  the  prince  himself, 
who  died  in  a  miserable  bondage  in  1443;  —  his  very 
bones  resting  for  many  years  among  the  misbelievers, 
till  they  were  at  last  brought  home  to  Lisbon  and 
buried  with  reverence,  as  those  of  a  saint  and  martyr. 
This  story  Calderon  found  in  the  old  and  beautiful 
Portuguese  chronicles  of  Joam  Alvares  and  Ruy  de 
Pina;  but  he  makes  the  sufferings  of  the  prince  volun- 
tary, thus  adding  to  Ferdinand's  character  the  self- 
devotion  of  Regulus,  and  so  fitting  it  to  be  the  subject 
of  a  deep  tragedy,  founded  on  the  honor  of  a  Christian 
patriot.*^ 

'■^  Mariana  announces  it  at  the  out-  lower,   Joam   Alvares,   first  printed  in 

set: —  1527,  of  which  an  abstract,  with  long 

Par  ley  de  nuestros  haiinx  passages  from  the  original,  may  be  found 

A' iviuios  a  desdichas  destinados.  in  the   "  Leben  des  standhaften  Prin- 

81  "EI  Principe  Constante,"  Comedi-  zen,"  Berlin,  1827,  8vo;  — a  curious 
as,  Tom.  III.  It  is  translated  into  Ger-  and  interesting  book.  To  these  may 
man  by  A.  W.  Sclilegel,  and  has  been  be  added,  for  the  illustmtion  of  the 
much  ailmired  as  an  acting  play  in  the  PrincipeConstante,  a  tract  byJ.  Schulze, 
theatres  of  Herlin,  Vienna,  Weimar,  entitled  "  Ueber  den  standhaften  Prin- 
€tc.  zen,"  ]irinted  at  Weimar,  1811,  12mo, 

82  Colec9a6deT.ivrosIneditosdeHi.st.  at  a  time  when  Schlegel's  translation 
Port.,  Lisboa,  foho,  Tom.  I.,  1790,  j)]).  of  that  drama,  brought  out  under  the 
290-204  ;  an  excellent  work,  published  auspices  of  Goethe,  was  in  the  midst  of 
by  the  Portuguese  Academy,  and  editeil  its  success  on  the  Weimar  stage  ;  the, 
by  tlie  learned  ( 'oriea  da  Serra,  formerly  i)art  of  Don  Ferdinand  being  acted  with 
Jiinister  of  Portugal  to  the  IJiuted  great  i)OWer  by  Wolf.  Schulze  is  ipiite 
States.  The,  .story  of  Don  Ferdinand  extravagant  in  his  estimate  of  the  pe- 
ls al.so  told  in  Maiiaiia,  Historia  (Tom.  etical  worth  of  the  Principe  Constante, 
II.  p.  345).  But  the  princijjal  resource  jtlacing  it  by  the  .side  of  the  "Divina 
•of  Cnlderon  was,  no  doubt,  a  life  of  the  Commedia  "  ;  but  he  discu.sses  skilfully 
Jnfante,  by  his  faithful  friend  antl  fol-  its  merits  as  an  acting  drama,  and  ex- 


(iiAr.  XXIII.]  EL    PRiNCIPE    COXSTANTE.  457 

The  first  scene  is  one  of  lyrical  beauty,  in  the  gar- 
dens of  the  king  of  Fez,  whose  daughter  is  introduced 
as  enamored  of  Muley  Hassan,  her  father's  principal 
general.  Immediately  afterwards,  Hassan  enters  and 
announces  the  approach  of  a  Christian  armament,  com- 
manded by  the  two  Portuguese  Infantes.  He  is  de- 
^^patched  to  prevent  their  landing,  but  fails,  and  is 
himself  taken  prisoner  by  Don  Ferdinand  in  person. 
A  long  dialogue  follows  between  the  captive  and  his 
conqueror,  entirely  formed  by  an  unfortunate  am- 
plification of  a  beautiful  ballad  of  Gongora, 
*  which  is  made  to  explain  the  attachment  of  *  389 
the  Moorish  general  to  the  king's  daughter,  and 
the  probability  —  if  he  continues  in  captivity  —  that 
she  will  be  compelled  to  marry  the  Prince  of  Morocco. 
The  Portuguese  Infante,  with  chivalrous  generosity, 
gives  up  his  prisoner  without  ransom,  but  has  hardly 
done  so,  before  he  is  attacked  by  a  large  army  under 
the  Prince  of  Morocco,  and  made  prisoner  himself. 

From  this  moment  begins  that  trial  of  Don  Ferdi- 
nand's patience  and  fortitude  which  gives  its  title  to 
the  drama.  At  first,  indeed,  the  king  treats  him  gen- 
erously, thinking  to  exchange  him  for  Ceuta,  an  im- 
portant fortress  recently  won  by  the  Portuguese,  and 
their  earliest  foothold  in  Africa.  But  this  constitutes 
the  great  obstacle.  The  king  of  Portugal,  who  had 
died  of  grief  on  receiving  the  news  of  his  brother's 
captivity,  had,  it  is  true,  left  an  injunction  in  his  will 
that  Ceuta  should  be  surrendered  and  the  prince  ran- 
somed. But  when  Henry,  one  of  his  brothers,  appears 
on  the  stage,  and  announces  that  he  has  come  to  fulfil 
this  solemn  command,  Ferdinand  suddenl}-  interrupts 

plains,  in  part,  its  historical  elements.      stante  were  set  to  mnsic  hy  the  German 
The  lyrical  portions  of  the  Principe  Con-      genius,  Mendelssohn  Bartholdy. 


458 


EL    PRIXCIPE    COXSTANTE. 


[PEniOD   II. 


liim  in  the  offer,  and  reveals  at  once  the  whole  of  his 
character  :  — 

Cease,  Henn',  cease  !  —  no  farther  slialt  thou  go  ;  — 

For  words  like  these  should  not  alone  be  deemed 

Unworthy  of  a  j)rince  of  Portugal,  — 

A  Master  of  the  Order  of  the  Cross,  — 

But  of  the  meanest  serf  that  sits  beneath 

The  throne,  or  the  barbaiian  hind  whose  ej-es 

Have  never  seen  the  light  of  Christian  faith. 

No  doubt,  my  brother  —  who  is  now  with  God  — 

May  in  his  wiU  have  placed  the  words  you  bring, 

But  never  with  a  thought  they  should  be  read 

And  carried  through  to  absolute  fulfilment  ; 

But  onlj^  to  set  forth  his  strong  desire. 

That,  by  all  means  which  peace  or  war  can  urge. 

My  life  should  be  enfranchised.     For  when  he  says, 

"  Surrender  Ceuta,"  he  but  means  to  say, 

"  Work  miracles  to  bring  my  brother  home." 

But  that  a  Catholic  and  faithful  king 

Should  yield  to  Moorish  and  to  heathen  hands 

A  city  hLs  own  blood  had  dearly  bought, 

When,  with  no  weapon  save  a  shield  and  sword. 

He  raised  his  country's  standard  on  its  walls,  — 

It  cannot  be  !  —  It  cannot  be  !  ^ 

*  390  *  On  this  resolute  decision,  for  which  the  old 
chronicle  gives  no  authority,  the  remamder  of 
the  drama  rests ;  its  deep  enthusiasm  being  set  forth 
in  a  single  word  of  the  Infante,  in  reply  to  the  renewed 
question  of  the  Moorish  king,  "And  why  not  give  up 


No  prosigfu: ;  — ces.«a, 

Cessa,  Enrique,  porque  son 

Palabras  indifrnas  essas, 

No  de  un  Portujjues  InCinte, 

De  un  Maestre,  que  profesai 

De  Christo  la  Ileligion, 

Pero  aun  de  un  hombre  lo  fueran 

Vil,  de  un  barbani  sin  luz 

De  la  Fe  de  (Jhristo  etema. 

Mi  heruiano,  que  esti  en  el  Cielo, 

Si  en  su  te.sUiuiento  dexa 

Essa  clausula,  no  es 

Para  que  Fe  cumpla,  y  lea, 

Sino  para  nio.strir  solo, 

Que  mi  libertad  desea, 

Y  essa  se  busque  por  otros 

Me<liop,  J'  otnis  conveniencias, 

O  apacibles,  »  crueles  ; 

Ponjuedecir:  Dese  a  Ceuta, 

Es  decir  :  Hastji  esjw  haced 

Proditriosa.'i  diligeiici;u-i ; 

Que  un  Rey  ('at.ilioo,  y  justo 

Coaio  I'uera,  como  fueru 


Possible  entrepir  a  un  Moro 
Una  ciudad  que  le  euesta 
Su  sangre,  pues  fu(5  el  primero 
Que  con  sola  una  rodela, 
Y  una  espaila,  euarbolo 
Las  Quinas  en  sus  aluiena.s  ? 

Jorn.  n. 

When  we  read  the  Principe  Con- 
stante,  we  seldom  remember  that  this 
Don  Henry,  who  is  one  of  its  important 
personages,  is  the  highly  culrivated 
jirince  who  did  so  niu(!h  to  promote 
discoveries  in  India.  See  antt.  Vol.  I. 
p.  186.  Damian  de  Goes  says  that  the 
Prince  lived  a  bachelor  in  order  to  de- 
vote himself  to  astronomy,  —  "propter 
sola  astrorum  studia  ccelebs  vi.xit." 
Fides,  Keligio,  Moresque  iEthiopum, 
Lovauii,  15  40,  4to,  f.  4.     It  should  be 


CuAv.  XXIII.]  EL    rRlNCIPE    CONSTANTE.  459 

Ceiita  ? "  to  which  Ferdinand  firmly  and  simply  an- 
swers, — 

Because  it  is  not  mine  to  give. 
A  Christian  city,  —  it  belongs  to  God. 

In  consequence  of  this  final  determination,  he  is  re- 
duced to  the  condition  of  a  common  slave  ;  and  it  is 
not  one  of  the  least  moving  incidents  of  the  drama, 
that  he  finds  the  other  Portuguese  captives  among 
whom  he  is  sent  to  work,  and  who  do  not  recognize 
him,  promising  freedom  to  themselves  from  the  effort 
they  know  his  noble  nature  will  make  on  their  behalf, 
when  the  exchange  which  they  consider  so  reasonable 
shall  have  restored  him  to  his  country. 

At  this  point,  however,  comes  in  the  operation  of  the 
Moorish  general's  gratitude.  He  offers  Don  Ferdinand 
the  means  of  escape ;  but  the  king,  detecting  the  con- 
nection between  them,  binds  his  general  to  an  honor- 
able fidelity  by  making  him  the  prince's  only  keeper. 
This  leads  Don  Ferdinand  to  a  new  sacrifice  of  himself. 
He  not  only  advises  his  generous  friend  to  preserve  his 
loyalty,  but  assures  him,  that,  even  should  foreign 
means  of  escape  be  offered  him,  he  will  not  take  advan- 
tage of  them,  if,  by  doing  so,  his  friend's  honor  would 
be  endangered.  In  the  mean  time,  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  unhappy  prince  are  *  increased  by  *  391 
cruel  treatment  and  unreasonable  labor,  till  his 
strength  is  broken  down.  Still  he  does  not  yield. 
Ceuta  remains  in  his  eyes  a  consecrated  place,  over 
which  religion  prevents  him  from  exercising  the  con- 
trol by  which  his  freedom  might  be  restored.  The 
Moorish  general  and  the  king's  daughter,  on  the  other 

remembered,    however,    that   this    In-  accompany  them,  was  the  head  of  the 

fante,    Don   Henry,    sometimes    called  expedition   against   Tangier,    although 

"  the  Navigator "  from  the  expeditions  his  brother  Ferdinand  was   a.ssociated 

he  sent  to  India,   though  he  did  not  with  him  in  the  command. 


460  EL    PRInXIPE    COXSTAXTE.  [Period  II. 

side,  intercede  for  mercy  in  vain.  The  king  is  inflex- 
ible, and  Don  Ferdinand  dies,  at  length,  of  mortifica- 
tion, misery,  and  want ;  but  with  a  mind  unshaken, 
and  with  an  heroic  constancy  that  sustains  our  inter- 
est in  his  fite  to  the  last  extremity.  Just  after  his 
death,  a  Portuguese  army,  destined  to  rescue  him, 
arrives.  In  a  night  scene  of  great  dramatic  effect,  he 
appears  at  their  head,  clad  in  the  habiliments  of  the 
religious  and  military  order  in  which  he  had  desired  to 
be  buried,  and,  with  a  torch  in  his  hand,  beckons  them 
on  to  victory.  They  obey  the  supernatural  summons, 
entire  success  follows,  and  the  marvellous  conclusion 
of  the  whole,  by  which  his  consecrated  remains  are 
saved  from  Moorish  contamination,  is  in  full  keeping 
with  the  romantic  pathos  and  high-wrought  enthu- 
siasm of  the  scenes  that  lead  to  it. 


*  CHAPTER    XXn^  *392 

CALDEROK,  CONTINUED. COMKDIAS    BE    CAPA    Y    ESPADA. FIRST    OF    ALL  MY 

LADY. FAIRY    LADY. THE     SCARF     AND     THE     FLOWER,    AND     OTHERS. 

HIS    DISREGARD    OF    HISTORY.  ORIGIN    OF    THE    EXTRAVAGANT    IDEAS    OF 

HONOR    AND     DOMESTIC     RIGHTS     IN     THE     SP.VNISH     DRAMA    ATTACKS     ON 

CALDERON. HIS  ALLUSIONS    TO    PASSING  EVENTS. HIS  BRILLIANT  STYLE. 

HIS    LONG    AUTHORITY    ON    THE    STAUf. AND    THE    CHAR.\CTER    OF    HIS 

POETICAL    .\ND    IDE.VLIZED    DRAMA. 

AVe  miLst  now  turn  to  some  of  Calderon's  plays 
which  are  more  characteristic  of  his  times,  if  not  of 
his  pecuhar  genius,  —  his  comedias  de  eapa  jj  esjxida. 
He  has  left  us  many  of  this  class,  and  not  a  few  of 
them  seem  to  have  been  the  work  of  his  early,  but 
ripe  manhood,  when  his  faculties  w^ere  in  all  their 
strength,  as  well  as  in  all  their  freshness.  Nearly 
or  quite  thirty  can  be  enumerated,  and  still  more  may 
be  added,  if  we  take  into  the  account  those  which, 
with  varying  characteristics,  yet  belong  to  this  par- 
ticular division  rather  than  to  any  other.  Among 
the  more  prominent  are  two,  entitled  "  It  is  Worse 
than  it  was  "  and  "  It  is  Better  than  it  was,"  which, 
probably,  were  translated  by  Lord  Bristol  in  his  lost 
plays,  "  Worse  and  AYorse  "  and  "  Better  and  Bet- 
ter";^—  "The  Pretended  Astrologer,"  which  Dry- 
den  used  in  his  "  Mock  Astrologer  " ;  ^  —  '•'  Beware  of 

1  "'T  is  Better  than  it  was"  and  and  "Peor  estaqne  Estaba."  "Elvira, 
"Worse  and  Worse."  "These  two  or  the  Wor.se  not  always  True,"  also  by- 
comedies,"  says  Downes,  (Roscius  An-  Lord  Bristol,  printed  in  1677,  and  in 
glicanus,  London,  1789,  8vo,  \).  36,)  the  twelfth  volume  of  Dod.sley's  collee- 
"were  made  out  of  Spanish  by  the  tion,  is  from  Calderon's  "No  Siempre 
Earl  of  Bristol."  There  can  be  little  lo  Peor  es  Cierto."  But  such  in.stances 
doubt  that  Calderon  was  the  source  are  rare  in  the  old  English  drama,  coin- 
here  referred  to,  and  that  the  plays  pared  with  the  French, 
used  were   "Mejor  esta  i^ue  Estaba,"         ^  Drydeu  took,  as  he  admits,   "An 


462  AXTES    QUE    TODO    ES    MI    DAMA.  [Period  II. 

*  393  Smooth  Wuter  "  ;  —  and  ••'  It  is  ill  *  keeping  a 
House  with  Two  Doors";  —  which  all  indicate 
bv  their  names  something:"  of  the  spirit  of  the  entire 
class  to  which  they  belong,  and  of  which  thev  are  fa- 
vorable examples. 

Another  of  the  same  division  of  the  drama  is  en- 
titled '•  First  of  all  my  Lady."  A  young  cavalier 
from  Granada  arrives  at  Madrid,  and  immediateh'  falls 
in  love  with  a  lady,  whose  father  mistakes  him  for 
another  person,  who,  though  intended  for  his  daughter, 
is  alread}'  enamored  elsewhere.  Strange  confusions 
are  ingeniously  multiplied  out  of  this  mistake,  and 
strange  jealousies  naturally  follow.  The  two  gentle- 
men are  found  in  the  houses  of  their  respective  ladies, 
—  a  mortal  offence  to  Spanish  dramatic  honor,  —  and 
things  are  pushed  to  the  most  dangerous  and  confound- 
ing extremities.  The  principle  on  which  so  many 
Spanish  dramas  turn,  that 

A  sword-thrust  heals  more  qiiicklj*  than  a  wound 
Inflicted  by  a  word,^ 

is  abundantly  exemplified.     More  than  once  the  lad/s 

Evening's  Love,  or  the  Mock  Astrolo-  I.   p.   364).     The  play  is  reprinted  in 

ger,"  from  the  "  Feint  Astrologue  "  of  Dodsley's  collection,  Vol.  XII. 

Thomas   Comeille.       (Scott's    Dryden,  ^  Mas  facil  sana  una  herida 

London,    1808,    8vo,  Vol.   III.   p. '229.)  Que  no  una  palabra 

Comeille  had  it  from  Calderon's  "As-  And  again,  m   "Amar  despues  de  la 

trologo    Fingido."      The    "Adventures  Muerte,    — 

of  Five  Hours "  compared  with  which  ^^ sana'^ru'una^rb^. 

Pepys   thought   Shakespeare  s   Othello  Comedian,  1760,  Tom.  n.  p.  352. 

"a   mean   thing.''  is    substantially,  a  embodies  the  national  feeling  in 

translation  Irom  the  '  Empenos  de  Seis  ^  .^^^^  ^^  ^j^  ^  ^^^   ^-^^^  „f  ^^^ 

?nT  li'-r'i't  J'TTr^  1        '■  il^r^l"i«  «f  Santillana.  in  the  fifteenth 

yill.    16d/ )    attributed   to   Calderon  ;  ^          ^^             0,.-             ^om.  II. 

but.  in  fact,  first  on  the  list  of  ]ilays  oo"  \      v      .        >        o 

declared  to  Ije  none  of  his  by  his  friend  1'"       '"^  ^^^^  ^^  enchilladas 

Vera  Ta.s.sis.     It  is,  however,  a  ])retty  y  no  la*  malas  palabras. 

good  imitation  of  Calderon's   manner.  Cure  for  a  knife-thrust  art  affordg, 

and  Pepys  was  not  far  out  of  the  way  But  nothing  cures  insulting  words, 

when.speakingof  the  version byColonel,  In  a  Spanish  chalh-nge.  the  offended 

afterwards  Sir  Samuel,  Tuke,   he  said  party  invited  his  adversar}'  to  meet  him 

that  it  wa.s  "the  best  for  the  variety  "Sin  mas  armas  que  una  espada,  para 

and  most  excellent  continuance  of  the  ver  si  la  de  vm.  corta  como  su  lengua." 

plot  to  the  verv' end,  that  he  ever  saw."  Varias  Fortunas  de  Don  Ant.  Hurtado 

^Memoirs,  1828,  Vol.   III.   p.   11,   Vol.  de  Mendoza,  f.  3. 


Chap.  XXIV.]  THE    DAMA    DUENDE.  463 

secret  is  protected  rather  than  the  friend  of  the  lover, 
though  the  friend  is  in  mortal  danger  at  the  moment ; 

—  the  circumstance  which  gives  its  name  to  the  drama. 
At  last,  the  confusion  is  cleared  up  hy  a  simple  expla- 
nation of  the  original  mistakes  of  all  the  parties, 
and  a  double  marriage  brings  a  happy  ending  to  the 
troubled  scene,  which  frequently  seemed  quite  inca- 
pable of  it."^ 

"The  Fairy  Lady  "^  is  another  of  Calderon's 
dramas  *  that  is  full  of  life,  spirit,  and  ingenuit}^  *  394 
Its  scene  is  laid  on  the  day  of  the  baptism  of 
Prince  Balthasar,  heir-apparent  of  Philip  the  Fourth, 
which,  as  w^e  know,  occurred  on  the  4th  of  November, 
1629  ;  and  the  piece  itself  was,  therefore,  probably 
written  and  acted  soon  afterwards.^  It  was  printed 
in  1635.  If  we  may  judge  by  the  number  of  times 
Calderon  complacently  refers  to  it,  we  cannot  doubt 
that  it  was  a  favorite  with  him  ;  and  if  we  judge  by 
its  intrinsic  merits,  we  may  be  sure  it  was  a  favorite 
with  the  public.^ 

*  "Antes  que  todo  e.s  mi  Dama."  pure,  and  often  happily  adapted  to  the 

^  "  La   Dama    Duende,"    Comedias,  Spanish  idiom. 

Tom.   III.     The  DuencU,   often  called  6  Oy  el  bautismo  celebra 

in  Castilian  Trasgo,  was  a  spirit  of  a  Del  primero  Baltasar. 

somewhat  more  mischievous  sort  than  Jorn.  I. 

the  proper /a.i/7y,  and  is  described  pleas-  The    Prince    Balthasar   Carlos,    who 

antly  by  Lope  de  Vega  in  the  adven-  died,  I  believe,  at  the  age  of  seventeen, 

tures  of  his  "Peregrino,"  who  is  mo-  is  chiefly  known  to  us  by  the  many 

lested  one  night  by  the  frolics  of  some  fine  portraits  Velasquez  painted  of  him. 

of  the   gay   tribe."      (Lib.  V.)     From  His  birth  was  matter  of  great  rejoicuig 

Torquemada  (Jardin  de  Flores  Curiosas,  all   over   the    Spanish   dominions,    as, 

Discurso  IIL)  I  suppose  the  Trasgo  was  during  the  nine  previous  years  of  her 

a  sort  of  Robin  Goodfellow.  married  life,  Isabel  of  France  had  borne 

A  translation  of  the  "Dama  Duende"  only    daughters.      I    have    a    tract   of 

is    the    first    in   a   collection    entitled  Latin,    Spanish,    and    Italian    verses, 

"Three  Comedies,  tran.slated  from  the  written  on  the  occasion  by  Jacobus  Va- 

Spanish,"  (London,  1807,  8vo,)  whicli  lerius  of  Milan,   very  characteristic  of 

has  been  attributed  by  Watt,   in   his  the  age.     My  copy  ot  it  was  presented 

Bibliotheca, — erroneously,   I  suppose,  ])y  the  author  with  an  autograph  Latin 

—  to   the    third    Lord    Holland.      A-U  inscrii)tion  to  Alfonso  Carreras,  one  of 
three  of  the  plays  are  too  freely  ren-  the  Koyal  Spanish  Council  in  Italy, 
•dered,  and  have  the  further  disadvan-  "^  I  should  think  lie  refers  to  it  eight 
tage  of  being  done  into  prose  ;  Init  the  times,  perlia])s  more,   in  the   course  of 
English  of  the  translator  is  eminently  Ids  plays  :  e.  g.  in  ' '  Marianas  de  Avril 


4G4  THE    DAMA    DUEXDE.  [Pkkiod  II. 

Dona  Angela,  the  heroine  of  the  intrigue,  a  widow, 
young,  beautiful,  and  rich,  lives  at  Madrid,  in  the  house 
of  her  two  brothers  ;  but,  from  circumstances  connected 
with  her  affairs,  her  hfe  there  is  so  retired,  that  noth- 
ing is  known  of  it  abroad.  Don  Manuel,  a  friend, 
arrives  in  the  city  to  visit  one  of  these  brothers ;  and, 
as  he  aj^proaches  the  house,  a  lady  strictly  veiled  stops 
him  in  the  street,  and  conjures  hiin.  if  he  be  a  cavalier 
of  honor,  to  jirevent  her  from  being  further  pursued  by 
a  gentleman  already  close  behind.^  This  lady  is  Doiia 
Angela,  and  the  gentleman  is  her  brother,  Don 
*  395  Luis,  who  is  pursuing  her  onh^  *  because  he  ob- 
serves that  she  carefull}'  conceals  herself  from 
him.  The  two  cavaliers  not  being  acquainted  Avith 
each  other,  —  for  Don  Manuel  had  come  to  visit  the 
other  brother,  —  a  dispute  is  easily  excited,  and  a  duel 
follows,  which  is  interrupted  Ijy  the  arrival  of  this 
other  brother,  and  an  explanation  of  his  friendship  for 
Don  Manuel. 

Don  Manuel  is  now  brought  home,  and  estal^lished 
in  the  house  of  the  two  cavaliers,  with  all  the  courtesy 
due  to  a  distinguished  guest.  His  apartments,  how- 
ever, are  connected  with  those  of  Doiia  Angela  b}^  a 
secret  door,  known  only  to  herself  and  her  confidential 

y  Mayo"  ;    "Agradeccr  y  no  Amar"  ;  rials  of  D'Ouville  to  an  old  "Canevas 

"El  Joseph  de  las  Mugeres,"  etc.      I  Italien."     He  plainly  took  them  from 

notice  it,  because  he  rarely  alludes  to  Calderon,    and   if  there  was   anything 

his  own  works,  and  never,  I  think,  in  on  the  popular  Italian  Theatre  of  the 

the  way  he  does  to  this  one.     The  Da-  same  sort,  it  was,  no  doubt,  from  the 

ma  Duende  is  well  known  in  the  French  same  source.     These  Italians  in  Paris 

"Repertoire"  as  the  "Esprit  Follet"  stole  veiy  freelJ^ 

of  Hauteroche.     There  is,  however,  an  *  The  wearing  of  veils  by  ladies  iu 

older  "Esprit  FoUct,"  taken  from  Cal-  the  streets  of  Madrid  led  to  so  much 

deron,  to  which,  ])robably,  Hauteroche  trouble,   that  no   less   than   four  laws 

resorted   rather    than    to   the   Spanish  were  made  to  forbid  their  use;  —  the 

original.     It  is  by  Antoine  le  Metel,  first  in  1586,  and  the  last  in  1639.      But 

Sieur  d'Ouville,   (Paris,  Quinet,    1642,  it  was  all  in  vain.     See  a  curious  trea- 

4to,)  and  an  account  of  it  may  be  found  tise  on  the  subject,  "  Velos  Antiguos  y 

in  the  Parfaits'  Hist,  du  Theatre  Fran-  Modemos  en  los  Rostros  de  las  Mugeres, 

Vois,    (Tom.    VI.,    174.^,    p.    1.59,)    but  ec,  por  Antonio  <le  Leon  Pinelo,"  Ma- 

they  are  wrong  in  attributing  the  mate-  drid,  1641,  4to,  ti".  137. 


Chap.  XXIV.] 


THE    I)A.>rA    DUENDE. 


465 


maid ;  und  finding  she  is  thns  unexpectedly  brought 
near  a  person  who  has  risked  his  life  to  serve  her,  she 
determines  to  put  herself  into  mysterious  communica- 
tion with  him. 

But  Doila  Angela  is  young  and  thoughtless.  AVhen 
she  enters  the  stranger's  apartment,  she  is  tempted  to 
loe  mischievous,  and  leaves  behind  marks  of  her  wild 
humor  that  are  not  to  be  mistaken.  The  servant  of 
Don  Manuel  thinks  it  is  an  evil  spirit,  or  at  best  a  fairy, 
—  Diiende,  —  that  plays  such  fantastic  tricks  ;  disturb- 
ing the  private  papers  of  his  master,  leaving  notes  on 
his  table,  throwing  the  furniture  of  the  room  into  con- 
fusion, and  —  from  an  accident  —  once  jostling  its  oc- 
cupants in  the  dark.  At  last,  the  master  himself  is 
confounded  ;  and  though  he  once  catches  a  glimpse  of 
the  mischievous  lady,  as  she  escapes  to  her  own  part 
of  the  house,  he  knows  not  what  to  make  of  the  appa- 
rition.    He  says :  — 

She  glided  like  a  spirit,  and  her  light 
Did  all  fantastic  seem.     But  still  her  form 
Was  human  ;  I  touched  and  felt  its  substance, 
And  she  had  mortal  fears,  and,  woman-like, 
Shrunk  back  again  with  dainty  modesty. 
At  last,  like  an  illusion,  all  dissolved, 
And,  like  a  phantasm,  melted  quite  away. 
If,  then,  to  my  conjectures  I  give  rein. 
By  heaven  above,  1  neither  know  nor  guess 
What  I  must  doubt  or  what  1  may  believe.^ 

*  But  the  tricksy  lady,  who  has  fairly  frolicked    *  396 
herself  in  love  with  the  handsome  young  cava- 
lier, is  tempted  too  far  by  her  brilliant  successes,  and 
being  at  last  detected  in  the  presence  of  her  astonished 


9  Como  Rombra  se  mostro ; 
Fantastica  su  luz  fue. 
Pero  como  cosa  humana, 
Se  dexo  toear  y  ver ; 
Como  mortal  se  temio, 
Rezelo  como  muger, 
Como  ilusion  se  deshizo. 


Como  fantasma  se  fue : 
Si  doy  la  rienda  al  discurso, 
No  se,  vive  Dios,  no  s^, 
Ni  que  tengo  de  dudar, 
Ni  que  tengo  de  creer. 

Jorn.  n. 


30 


4G6  LA    VAXDA    Y    LA    FLOR.  [Pkkiod  IL 

brothers,  the  intrigue,  which  is  one  of  the  most  comph- 
cated  and  gay  to  be  found  on  any  theatre,  ends  with 
an  explanation  of  her  fairy  humors,  and  her  marriage 
vrith  Don  ManueL 

••  The  Scarf  and  the  Flower,"  ^^  Avhich,  from  internal 
evidence,  is  to  be  placed  in  the  year  1632,  is  another 
of  the  happy  specimens  of  Calderon's  manner  in  this 
class  of  dramas ;  but,  unlike  the  last,  love-jealousies 
constitute  the  chief  complication  of  its  intrigue.-"^^  The 
scene  is  laid  at  the  court  of  the  Duke  of  Florence. 
Two  ladies  give  the  hero  of  the  piece,  one  a  scarf 
and  the  other  a  flower;  but  they  are  both  so  com- 
pletely veiled  when  they  do  it,  that  he  is  unable  to 
distinguish  one  of  them  from  the  other.  The  mis- 
takes which  arise  from  attributing  each  of  these  marks 
of  favor  to  the  wrong  lady  constitute  the  first  series  of 
troubles  and  suspicions.  These  are  further  aggravated 
by  the  conduct  of  the  Grand  Duke,  who,  for  his  own 
princely  convenience,  requires  the  hero  to  show 
marked  attentions  to  a  third  lady  ;  so  that  the  rela- 
tions of  the  lover  are  thrown  into  the  greatest  possible 
confusion,  until  a  sudden  danger  to  his  life  brings  out 
an  involuntary  expression  of  the  true  lady's  attach- 
ment, which  is  answered  with  a  delight  so  sincere  on 
his  part  as  to  leave  no  doubt  of  his  affection.  This 
restores  the  confidence  of  the  parties,  and  the  denoue- 
ment is  of  course  happy. 

There  are  in  this,  as  in  most  of  the  dramas  of  Cal- 
deron  belonging  to  the  same  class,  great  freshness  and 
life,  and   a  tone  truly   Castilian,  courtly,  and    grace- 

i**  "  La  Vanda  y  la  Flor,"  Comedias,  Baltha.sar,  as  Prince  of  Asturias,  which 

Tom.  V.      It   is   admirably  translated  took  i)lace  in  1632,  and  whicli  Calde- 

into  Gei-man,  by  A.  W.  Schlcgel.  rou  would  hardly  have  introduced  on 

^^  In  Jornada  I.  there  is  a  full-length  the  stage  much  later,  because  the  in- 

description  of  the  Jura  de  Baltasnr,  —  terest  in  such  a  ceremony  is  so  short- 

the  act  of  swearing  homage  to  Prince  lived. 


Chap.  XXIV.] 


LA    VANDA    Y    LA    FLOE. 


467 


ful.  Lisidii,  who  loves  Henry,  the  hero,  and  gave  him 
the  flower,  finds  him  w^earing  her  rival's  scarf,  and, 
from  this  and  other  circumstances,  naturally  ac- 
cuses him  of  being  devoted  to  that  *  rival ; —  *  397 
an  accusation  Avhicli  he  denies,  and  explains  the 
delusive  appearance  on  the  ground  that  he  approached 
one  lady  as  the  only  way  to  reach  the  other.  The 
dialogue  in  which  he  defends  himself  is  extremely 
characteristic  of  the  gallant  style  of  the  Spanish 
drama,  especially  in  that  ingenious  turn  and  repeti- 
tion of  the  same  idea  in  different  figures  of  speech, 
which  becomes  more  and  more  condensed,  —  and  so, 
as  Nick  Bottom  says,  grows  to  a  j^oint,  —  the  nearer 
it  approaches  its  conclusion. 


Lisida. 

Henry. 
Lisida. 

Henry. 
Lisida. 

Henry . 
Lisida,. 
Henry. 

Lisida. 

Henry. 


Lisida. 
Henry. 
Lisida. 


Henry. 


But  how  can  you  deny  the  very  thing 
Which,  with  my  very  eyes,  I  now  behold  ? 
By  full  denial  that  you  see  such  thing.     . 
"Were  you  not,  like  the  shadow  of  her  house, 
Still  ever  in  the  street  before  it  ? 

I  was. 
At  each  returning  dawn,  were  you  not  found 
A  statue  on  her  terrace  ? 

I  do  confess  it. 
Did  you  not  write  to  her  ? 

I  can't  deny 
I  wrote. 

Served  not  the  murky  cloak  of  night 
To  hide  your  stolen  loves  ? 

That,  under  cover 
Of  the  friendly  night,  I  sometimes  sjioke  to  her, 
I  do  confess. 

And  is  not  this  her  scarf  ? 
It  was  hers  once,  I  think. 

Then  what  means  this  ? 
If  seeing,  talking,  writing,  be  not  making  love,  — 
If  wearing  on  your  neck  her  very  scarf. 
If  following  her  and  watching,  be  not  love,  — 
Pray  tell  me,  sir,  what  't  is  you  call  it  ? 
And  let  me  not  in  longer  doubt  be  left 
Of  what  can  be  with  so  much  ease  explained. 
A  timely  illustration  will  make  clear 
What  seems  so  difficult.     The  cunning  fowler. 


468  LA    VAXDA    Y    LA    FLOR.  [Peeiod  II. 

•  As  tlic  l»ird  glant'cs  by  him,  watches  for 

The  feathery  fonn  he  aims  at,  not  where  it  is, 
But  on  one  side  ;  for  well  he  knows  that  he 
Shall  tail  to  reach  his  fleeting  mark,  unless 
He  cheat  the  wind  to  give  its  helpful  tribute 
To  his  shot.     The  careful,  hardy  sailor,  — 
He  who  hath  laid  a  j'oke  and  placed  a  rein 
Upon  the  fierce  and  furious  sea,  curbing 
Its  wild  and  monstrous  nature,  —  even  he 
*  398  *  Steers  not  right  onward  to  the  port  he  seeks, 

But  bears  awav,  deludes  the  opjiosing  waves. 
And  wins  the  wished-for  haven  by  his  skill. 
The  warrior,  who  a  fortress  would  besiege. 
First  sounds  the  alarm  before  a  neighbor  fort. 
Deceives,  with  military  art,  the  place 
He  seeks  to  win,  and  takes  it  unawares, 
Force  yielding  up  its  vantage-ground  to  ci-aft. 
The  mine  that  works  its  central,  winding  way 
Volcanic,  and,  built  deep  by  artifice. 
Like  Mongibello,  shows  not  its  effect 
In  those  abysses  where  its  pregnant  powers 
Lie  hid,  concealing  all  their  horrors  dark 
E'en  from  the  fire  itself  ;  but  there  begins 
The  task  which  here  in  ruin  ends  and  woe,  — 
Lightning  beneath  and  thunderbolts  above.  — 
Now,  if  my  love,  amidst  the  realms  of  air, 
Aim,  like  the  fowler,  at  its  proper  (piarry  ; 
Or  sail  a  mariner  upon  the  sea, 
Tempting  a  doubtful  fortune  as  it  goes  ; 
Or  chieftain-like  contends  in  arms. 
Nor  fails  to  conquer  even  baseless  jealousy  ; 
Or,  like  a  mine  sunk  in  the  bosom's  depths. 
Bursts  forth  above  with  fury  uncontrolled  ;  — 
Can  it  seem  strange  that  /  should  stQl  conceal 
My  many  lo\'ing  feelings  with  false  shows  ? 
Let,  then,  this  scarf  bear  witness  to  tlie  truth. 
That  I,  a  hidden  mine,  a  mariner, 
A  chieftain,  fowler,  still  in  fire  and  water, 
Earth  and  air,  would  hit,  w'ould  reach,  would  conquer. 
And  would  crush,  my  game,  my  port,  my  fortress, 
And  my  foe.  \_Gives  lier  tlie  scarf. 

lAsida.  You  deem,  perchance,  that,  flattered 

By  such  shallow  compliment,  my  injuries 
May  be  forgotten  with  jour  open  folly. 
But  no,  sir,  no  !  —  you  do  mistake  me  quite. 
I  am  a  woman  ;  I  am  proud,  —  so  proud. 
That  I  will  neither  have  a  love  that  comes 
From  pique,  from  fear  of  being  first  cast  off. 
Nor  from  contempt  that  galls  the  secret  heart. 


Chap.  XXIY.] 


LA   VAXDA   Y    LA    FLOR. 


469 


He  who  wins  iiir.  nuist  lovo  iiu>  for  inj'sclf, 
And  seek  no  othcn-  guenloii  for  liis  love 
But  wliiit  that  love  itself  will  give.^- 

*A8  may  be  gathered,  perhaps,  from  what  *399 
has  been  said  concerning  the  few  dramas  we 
have  examined,  the  plots  of  Calderon  are  ahnost 
always  marked  with  great  ingenuity.  Extraordinary 
adventures  and  unexpected  turns  of  fortune,  disguises, 
duels,  and  mistakes  of  all  kinds,  are  put  in  constant 
requisition,  and  keep  ujj  an  eager  interest  in  the  con- 
cerns of  the  personages  whom  he  brings  to  the  fore- 
ground of  the  scene.  Yet  many  of  his  stories  are  not 
wholly  invented  l)y  him.  Several  are  taken  from  the 
books  of  the  Old  Testament,  as  is  that  on  the  rebellion 
of  Absalom,^^  which  ends  with  an  exhibition  of  the 


Enriq. 
Lisid. 

Lisifl. 

Enriq. 
Lisid. 
Enriq. 


Lisifl. 
Enriq. 


Enriq. 


Pues  conio  podeis  negarme 

liO  misnio  que  yo  estoy  viendo  ? 

Negantlo  que  vos  lo  veis. 

No  fui8teis  en  el  pEUSseo 

Sombra  de  su  casa ?     Enriq.    Si. 

Estatua  de  su  terrero 

No  OS  halli  el  Alva? 

Es  verdad. 

No  la  escrivlsteis  ? 

No  niego, 

Que  escrivi.     L/.«.  No  fii6  la  noche 

De  amantes  delitos  vuestros 

Capaobscura?     Enriq.  Que  la  habl6 

Alguna  noche  os  confiesso. 

No  es  suya  essa  vanda ' 

Suya 

Pienso  que  fut'^ 

Pues  que  es  esto  ? 

Si  ver,  si  liablar,  si  oscrivir, 

Si  traer  su  vanda  al  cuello, 

Si  seguir,  si  desvelar, 

No  es  amar,  yo,  Enrique,  os  ruego 

Me  digais  como  so  llama, 

Y  no  ignore  yo  mas  tii^mpo 
Una  rii«i  qui'  c-i  tan  fiicil. 
Kcsiirpri.li(i<  mi  MVgumcnto  : 

El.-L^tlltu  r.-lziMlnr, 

Que  en  1(1  r.iplU)  del  buelo 
Hiee  a  uu  atomo  de  pluma 
Blanco  veioz  del  acierto, 
No  adonde  la  ca^ia  esti 
Pone  la  niira,  advirtiendo, 
Que  para  que  el  viento  peclie, 
Le  importa  engaiiar  el  viento. 
El  marinero  ingenioso, 
Que  al  mar  tlesbooado  y  fiero, 
Monstruo  de  naturaleiia, 
Hallo  yugo,  y  puso  freno. 
No  al  puerto  que  solicita 
Pone  la  proa,  que  hariendo 
Puntas  al  agua,  desmiente 
Sus  iras,  y  tonia  puerto 
El  capitan  que  esta  fuorza 
Intenta  ganar,  primero 
En  aquella  toca  al  arma, 

Y  con  marcialcs  estruendos 


Engana  li  la  tierra,  que 
Mai  prevenida  del  riesgo 
La  esper.iba  ;  assi  la  fuerza 
Le  da  a  partido  al  ingenio. 
La  mina,  que  en  las  eutranas 
De  la  tierra  esfcreno  el  centre, 
Artificioso  volcan, 
Inveutado  Mongibelo, 
No  donde  prenado  oculta 
Abismos  de  horror  inmensos 
Hace  el  efecto,  porque, 
Engaiiando  al  misnio  fuego, 
Aqui  concibe,  alii  aborta  ; 
Alii  es  rayo,  y  aqui  trueno. 
Pues  si  es  cazador  ml  amor 
En  las  campanas  del  viento  ; 
Si  en  el  mar  de  sus  fortunas 
Inconstante  marinero  ; 
Si  es  caudillo  victorioso 
En  las  guerras  de  sus  zelos  : 
Si  fuego  nial  resistido 
En  mina  de  tantos  pechos. 
Que  mucho  engafiasse  en  mi 
Tantos  amantes  afoctos  ? 
Sea  esta  vanda  testigo  ; 
Porque,  volcan,  marinero, 
Capitan,  y  cazador  ; 
En  fuego,  agua,  tierra,  y  viento ; 
Logre,  tenga,  alcanze,  y  tome 
Kuina,  caza,  triunfo,  y  puerto. 

[Dnie  la  vanda. 
Lisid.  Bien  pensareis  que  mis  quexas, 
Mai  lisoiijeada.s  con  esso, 
Os  remitan  de  mi  agravio 
Ljus  sinrazones  del  vuestro. 
No,  Enrique,  yo  soy  niuger 
Tan  sobervia,  que  no  quiero 
Ser  querida  por  venganza, 
Por  tenia,  ni  por  desprecio. 
El  que  a  mi  me  ha  de  querer, 
Por  mi  ha  de  ser  ;  no  teniendo 
Convenieiicias  en  quererme 
Mas  que  quererme. 

Jorn.  II. 

^^  This  is  a  drama,  in  many  parts,  of 


470  CALDEROX'S    PLOTS.  [Pkiuod  II. 

unliapiDV  prince  hanging  1)y  lii.s  hair  and  tlying  amid.st 
reproaches  on  his  personal  beautj".  A  few  are  from 
Greek  and  Roman  history,  hke  •'  The  Second  Scipio  " 
and  *•  Contests  of  Love  and  Lovaltv,"  — the  hist  beinc 
on  the  stor}'  of  Alexander  the  Great.  Still  more  are 
from  Ovid's  "Metamorphoses,"^*  like  "Apollo 
^  400  and  Climene  "  and  -  The  *  Fortunes  of  Androm- 
eda." And  occasionalh',  but  rareh',  he  seems 
to  have  sought,  with  painstaking  care,  in  obscure 
sources  for  his  materials,  as  in  "  Zenobia  the  Great," 
where  he  has  used  Trebellius  Pollio  and  Flavius  Yo- 
piscus.^^ 

But,  as  we  have  already  noticed,  Calderon  makes 
everything  bend  to  -his  ideas  of  dramatic  effect;  so 
that  what  he  has  borrowed  from  history  comes  forth 
upon  the  stage  with  the  brilliant  attributes  of  a 
masque,  almost  as  much  as  what  is  drawn  from  the 
rich  resources  of  his  own  imagination.  If  the  subject 
he  has  chosen  falls  naturallv  into  the  only  forms  he 
recognizes,  he  indeed  takes  the  focts  much  as  he  finds 

great  brilliancy  and  power,  but  one  in  or,    at  least,    singularly  indicated    it. 

Avhich  C"aldei-on  owed  too  much  to  Tirso.  He  took  the  stoiy  of  the  Sultan  Saladin 

1*  I  think  there  are  six,  at  least,  of  from   tlie    "Conde    Lucanor"    of   Don 

Calderou's  plays  taken  from  the  Meta-  John  Manuel,  (cap.  6,)  and  called  the 

morjihoses  ;  a  circumstance  worth  not-  play  he  founded  on  it  "El  Conde  Lu- 

ing,  because  it  shows  the  direction  of  canor,"   making  a   Count  Lucanor  its 

his  ta.ste.     He  seems  to  have  used  no  hero,  though,  of  course,  not  the  Count 

ancient  author,  and  perhaps  no  author  who  gives  its  title  to  the  original.     The 

at  all,  in  his  plays,  so  much  as  Ovid,  play  of  Calderon  has  beautiful  passages, 

who  was  a  favorite  classic  in  Spain,  six  One  with  the  same  title,  and  ]irinted  as 

translations  of  the  Metamoi-jdioses  hav-  his,  a])pears  in  Vol.  XV.  of  the  Come- 

ing  Ix'en  made  there  before  the  time  of  dia.s  Escogidas,   1661  ;  but  he  jirotests 

Calderon.     Don  Qui.xote,  ed.  Clemen-  against  the  outrage  in  the  Preface  to 

cin,  Tom.  IV.,  1835,  p.  407.  tlie   Fourth   Part  of  his  Plays,   which 

•    ^*  It  is  possible  Calderon   may  not  was  published  at  Sladrid  in  1672,  and 

have  gone  to  the  originals,  but  found  in  which  he  required  the  friend  who 

his  materials  nearer  at  hand  ;  and  yet,  published  it  to  insert  the  true  "Conde 

on  a  comparison  of  the  triumj)hal  entrj'  Lucanor,"  that  justice  might  be  done 

of  Aurelian    into  Rome,   in  the  third  him   by  a  comparison  of  it  A\ith  the 

jornudUi,  with  the  conesjionding  passa-  false  one.     Of  this  rare  Fourth  Part,  I 

ges  iu  Trebellius,  "  De  Triginta  Tyrau-  found  a  copy  in   St.   Mark's   Library, 

nis"  (c.  xxix.)  and  VopLscu.s,   "Aureli-  Venice,  which  had  belonged  to  Ajiosto- 

anus"  (c.  xx.xiii.,  xxxiv.,  etc.),  it  seems  lo  Zeno,  who  was  familiar  with  the  old 

most  likely  that  he  had  read  them.  Spanish  dramatists,  and  borrowed  from 

Once  he  went  to  a  sijigular  source,  them. 


Chap.  XXIV.]  CALDERON's    PLOTS.  471 

them.  This  is  the  case  with  "  The  Siege  of  Breda," 
Avhich  he  has  set  forth  Avith  an  approach  to  statistical 
accuracy,  as  it  happened  in  1624-  1G25  ;  —  all  in  honor 
of  the  commanding  general,  Spinola,  who  may  well 
liave  furnished  some  of  the  curious  details  of  the 
piece,^*^  and  who,  no  doubt,  witnessed  its  representa- 
tion. This  is  the  case,  too,  wdth  "  The  Last  Duel  in 
Spain,"  founded  on  the  last  single  combat  held 
there  under  royal  *  authority,  which  was  fought  *  401 
at  Valladolid,  in  the  presence  of  Charles  the 
Fifth,  in  1522  ;  and  which,  by  its  showy  ceremonies 
and  chivalrous  spirit,  was  admirably  adapted  to  Cal- 
deron's  purposes.^" 

But  where  the  subject  he  selected  was  not  thus 
fully  fitted,  by  its  own  incidents,  to  his  theory  of  the 
drama,  he  accommodated  it  to  his  end  as  freely  as  if 
it  were  of  imagination  all  compact.  "  The  Weapons  of 
Beaut}'"  and  "Love  the  Most  Powerful  of  Enchant- 
ments" are  abundant  proofs  of  this;^^  and  so  is  "Hate 
and  Love,"  where  he  has  altered  the  fects  in  the  life 

i"*  For  instance,  the  exact  enumera-  I  ought,  perhajis,  to  add,  that  above 

tion  of  the  troops  at  tlie  opening  of  the  a  century  Liter — in  1641  —  the  Duke 

])lay.     Couiedias,   Tom.    III.    pp.    142,  of  Medina  Sidonia,  on  behalf  of  Philip 

149.     The  Protestants  in  this  play  are  IV.,  challenged  the  Duke  of  Braganza,. 

treated  with  a  dignity  and  considera-  then  king  of  Portugal,  to  a  trial  by  duel 

tion  very  rare  in  Spanish  poetry,  and  of  his  rights  to  the  crown  he  had  just 

very  honorable  to  Calderon.     Velasquez,  won  back  from  Spain;  and  —  what  is 

who  had   travelled  to   Italy  with  the  more  —  this  challenge  was  defended  by 

Mar([uis  of  Spinola,  painted  one  of  his  ecclesiastical    authority   in   a   tract  of 

grandest  })ictures  on  tlie  same  subject  great  learning  and  some  acuteues.s,  en- 

with  this  play  of  Calderon  (Stirling's  titled  "  Justifieacion  moral  en  el  Fuero 

Artists,  Vol.  II.  p.  634) ;  — Head  (Hand-  de  la  Conciencia  de  la  particular  Batalla 

]>ook,  p.  1.52)  reckons  it  the  very  best  of  (jue  el  Excmo.  Du(jue  de  Medina  Sido- 

his  historical  pictures.  nia  ofrecio  al  (pie  fue  de  Bragam^a,  por 

"  It  ends  with  a  voluntary  anachro-  el  Padre  M.  Thomas  Hnrtado."     (An- 

nisra,  — the  resolution  of  the  Emperor  teipiera,  1641,  4to.)     The  duel  was,  of 

to  aj)ply  to  Pope  Paul  III.  and  to  have  course,   declined  by  the  king  of  Por- 

such   duels    abolished   by  the  Connt.'il  tugal. 

of  Trent.     By  its  very  last  words,  it  ^^  "  Las  Annas  de  la  Hermosura," 

shows  that  it  was  acted  before  the  king,  Tom.    I.,    and    "El    ilayor    Encanto 

a  fact  that  does  not  appear  on  its  title-  Amor,"  Tom.  V.,  arc  the  plays  on  Cori- 

page.     The  duel  is  the  one  Sandoval  olanus  and  Ulysses.     Tliey  have  been, 

describes   with    so    much    minuteness,  mentioned  before. 
Hist,  de  Carlos  V.,  Anver.s,  1681,  folio, 
Lib.  XI.  §§  8,  9. 


472  CALDEKOn's    plots.  [Period  II. 

of  Christina  of  Sweden,  hi.s  whini.sical  contemporaiy, 
till  it  is  not  easy  to  recognize  her,  —  a  remark  which 
may  be  extended  to  the  character  of  Peter  of  Aragon 
in  his  "Tres  Justicias  en  Uno,"  and  to  the  personages 
in  Portugnese  history  whom  he  has  so  strikingly  ideal- 
ized in  his  '•  Weal  and  Woe,"  ^'^  and  in  his  ••  Firm- 
Hearted  Prince."  To  an  English  reader,  however,  the 
"  Cisma  de  Inglaterra,"  on  the  fortunes  and  fate  of 
Anne  Boleyn  and  Cardinal  Wolsey,  is  probably  the 
most  obvious  perversion  of  history  ;  for  the  Cardinal, 
after  his  fall  from  power,  comes  on  the  stage  begging 
his  bread  of  Catherine  of  Aragon,  while,  at  the  same 
time,  Henry,  repenting  of  the  religious  schism  he  has 
coimtenanced,  promises  to  marry  his  daughter  Mary  to 

Philip  the  Second  of  Spain. ^^ 
*  402        *  Nor  is  Calderon  more  careful  in  matters  of 

morals  than  in  matters  of  fact.  Duels  and  homi- 
cides occur  constantly  in  his  plays,  under  the  slightest 
pretences,  as  if  there  were  no  question  about  their  pro- 
priety. The  authority  of  a  father  or  brother  to  put  to 
death  a  daughter  or  sister  who  has  been  guilty  of 
secreting  her  lover  under  her  own  roof  is  fully  recog- 
nized."'' It  is  made  a  ground  of  glory  for  the  king,  Don 
Pedro,  that  he  justified  Gutierre  in  the  atrocious  mur- 
der of  his  wife ;  and  even  the  lady  Leonore,  who  is  to 
succeed  to  the  blood-stained  bed,  desires,  as  we  have 
.seen,  that  no  other  measure  of  justice  should  be  ajDplied 

1^  Good,  but  somewhat  over-rpfiiicil,  far   as  Calderon's  merit  is  concerned, 

remarks  on  tlie  use  Calderon  made  of  Nothing  will  show  the  wide  difference 

Portuguese  history  in  his  "Weal  and  between  Shakespeare  and  Calderon  more 

Woe  "  are  to  be  found  rn  the  Preface  to  strikingly,  than  a  comparison  of  this 

the  second  volume  of  Malsljurg's  Ger-  play  with  the  grand  historical  drama 

man  translation  of  Calderon,   Leipzig,  of  "  Henry  the  Eighth." 
1819,  12mo.  -1  Of  these    duels,    and   his  notions 

'■"  Comedias,   1760,   Tom.    IV.     See,  about  female  honor,  half  the  ])lays  of 

also,    Ueber  die   Kirchentrennung  von  Calderon  may  be  taken  as  specimens, 

England,  von  F.  W.  V.  Schmidt,  Ber-  but   it   is   oiily   necessary    to   refer   to 

lin,  1819,  12mo;  — a  pamphlet  full  of  "Casa  con  Dos  Puertas"  and  "EI  Es- 

cunous   mattei',   but   too  laudatory,   so  coudido  y  la  Tapada." 


CiiAi'.  XXIV.]  DOMESTIC    HONOR.  473 

to  herself  than  had  been  applied  to  the  innocent  and 
beautiful  victim  who  lay  dead  before  lier.  Indeed,  it 
is  impossible  to  read  far  in  Calderon  without  perceiving 
that  his  object  is  mainly  to  excite  a  high  and  feverish 
interest  by  his  plot  and  story ;  and  that  to  do  this  he 
relies  too  constantly'  upon  an  exaggerated  sense  of 
honor,  which,  in  its  more  refined  attributes,  certainly 
did  not  give  its  tone  to  the  courts  of  Philip  the  Fourth 
and  Charles  the  Second,  and  which,  with  the  wide  claims 
he  makes  for  it,  could  never  have  been  the  rule  of  con- 
duct and  intercourse  anywhere,  without  shaking  all  the 
foundations  of  society  and  poisoning  the  best  and  dear- 
est relations  of  life. 

Here,  therefore,  we  find  pressed  upon  us  the  ques- 
tion. What  w^as  the  ori":in  of  these  extravatjant  ideas 
of  domestic  honor  and  domestic  rights,  which  are  found 
in  the  old  Spanish  drama  from  the  beginning  of  the 
full-length  plays  in  Torres  Naharro,  and  which  are  thus 
exhibited  in  all  their  excess  in  the  play^  of  Calderon  ? 

The  question  is  certainly  difficult  to  answer,  as  are 
all  like  it  that  depend  on  the  origin  and  traditions  of 
national  character ;  but  —  setting  aside  as  quite  ground- 
less the  suggestion  generally  made,  that  the  old  Span- 
ish ideas  of  domestic  authority  might  be  derived  from 
the  Arabs  —  we  find  that  the  ancient  Gothic  laws,  which 
date  back  to  a  period  long  before  the  Moorish 
invasion,  and  which  fully  *  represented  the  *  403 
national  character  till  they  were  supplanted  by 
the  "Partidas"  in  the  fourteenth  centurj',  recognized 
the  same  fearfully  cruel  system  that  is  found  in  the  old 
drama.  Everything  relating  to  domestic  honor  was 
left  by  these  laws,  as  it  is  by  Calderon,  to  domestic 
authority.  The  father  had  power  to  put  to  death  his 
wife  or  daughter  who  was  dishonored  under  his  roof; 


474  DItAMATIC   DUELS.  [Period  II. 

and  if  the  father  were  dead,  the  same  terrible  power 
was  transferred  to  the  brother  in  rehition  to  his  sister, 
or  even  to  the  lover,  where  the  offending  party  had 
been  betrothed  to  him. 

No  doubt,  these  wild  laws,  though  foi'mallj  renewed 
and  re-enacted  as  late  as  the  reign  of  Saint  Ferdinand, 
had  ceased  in  the  time  of  Calderon  to  have  any  force  ; 
and  the  infliction  of  death  under  circumstances  in  which 
they  fully  justified  it  would  then  have  been  murder  in 
Spain,  as  it  would  have  been  in  any  other  civilized 
countrj'  of  Christendom.  But,  on  the  otlier  hand,  no 
doubt  these  laws  were  in  operation  during  many  more 
centuries  than  had  elapsed  l)etween  their  abrogation 
and  the  age  of  Calderon  and  Philip  the  Fourth.  The 
tradition  of  their  power,  therefore,  was  not  yet  lost  on 
the  popular  character,  and  poetry  was  permitted  to 
preserve  their  fearful  principles  long  after  their  enact- 
ments had  ceased  to  be  acknowledged  anywhere  else."^ 

Similar  remarks  may  be  made  concerning  duels. 
That  duels  were  of  constant  recurrence  in  Spain  in 
the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries,  as  well  as  ear- 
lier, we  have  abundant  proof  But  we  know,  too,  that 
the  last  which  was  countenanced  by  royal  authority 
occurred  in  the  youth  of  Charles  the  Fifth ;  and  there 
is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  private  encounters,  except 
street  brawls,  were  mucli  more  common  among  the 
cavaliers  at  Madrid  in  the  time  of  Lope  de  Yega 
than  they  were  at  London  and  Paris."'^     But  the  tra- 

'■^  Fuero  Juzj^o,  cd.  ili-  la  Acadeiiiia,  Fonlinaiul  after  the  conquest  of  Cordova 

Madrid,  ISl',,  folio,   I.il).   ill.  Tit.  IV.  in  1241. 

Leycs  3-5  and  !).      It  should  be  le-  ^*  Howell,  in  1(323,  when  he  had  been 

meinbered,  that  these  laws  were  the  old  a  year  in  Madrid,  under  eircuinstance.s 

Gothio  laws  of  Spain  before  A.  D.  700  ;  to  give  him  familiar  knowledge  of  its 

that  they  were  the  laws  of  the  Chris-  gay   .society,   and  at  a  time  wlien   the 

tians  who  did  not  fall  under  the  Arabic  drama  of  Lope  was  at  the  height  of  its 

authority;  and  that  thi-y  i<i'<' published  favor,  says,  "One  shall  not  hear  of  a 

in  the  fdilicjM  of  tlic  Ai:ademy  as  they  duel  here  in  an  age."     Letters,  eleventh 

were  consolidated  and  re-enacted  by  St.  edition,    London,   1754,   8vo,    Book   1. 


C'hai".  XXIV.]  ATTA(JKS    ON    CALDEKOX.  475 

■ditions  tliut  hud  come  down  from  *  the  thnes  *  404 
when  they  prevailed  were  quite  sufficient  war- 
rant for  a  drama,  which  sought  to  excite  a  strong  and 
anxious  interest  more  than  anything  else.  In  one  of 
the  plays  of  Barrios  there  are  eight,  and  in  another 
twelve  duels ;  "^  an  exhibition  that,  on  any  other  sup- 
position, would  have  been  absurd. 

Perhaps  the  very  extravagance  of  such  representa- 
tions made  them  comparatively  harmless.  It  was,  in 
the  days  of  the  Austrian  dynasty,  so  incredible  that  a 
brother  should  put  his  sister  to  death  merely  because 
she  had  been  found  under  his  roof  with  her  lover,  or 
that  one  cavalier  should  fight  another  in  the  -street 
simply  because  a  lady  did  not  wish  to  be  followed,  that 
there  was  no  o-reat  danger  of  contagion  from  the  the- 
atrical  example.  Still,  the  immoral  tendency  of  the 
Spanish  drama  was  not  overlooked,  even  at  the  time 
when  Calderon's  fame  was  at  the  highest.  Manuel  de 
Guerra  y  Ribera,  one  of  his  great  admirers,  in  an  Apro- 
hacion  prefixed  to  Calderon's  plays  in  1683,  praised,  not 
only  his  friend,  but  the  great  body  of  the  dramas  to 
whose  brilliancy  that  friend  had  so  much  contributed ; 
and  the  war  against  the  theatre  broke  out  in  conse- 
quence, as  it  had  twice  in  the  time  of  Lope.  Four 
anonymous  attacks  were  made  on  the  injudicious 
remarks  of  Guerra,  and  two  more  by  persons  who 
gave  their  names,  —  Puente  de  Mendoza  and  Navarro ; 
—  the  last,  oddly  enough,  replying  in  print  to  a  de- 
fence of  himself  by  Guerra,  which  had  then  been  seen 

Sect.    3,    Letter  32.      Figueroa   (Placa  Madrid  es  Corte,  por  Alonso  Nufie^r  de 

Universal,  1615,  f.  270)  says  the  same  Castro,"   1658,  where   it   is   said  they 

thing,   speaking  of  the   duel:    "Pues  are   "not  less  common  than  rocks  in 

casi  en  ninguna  provincia  o  ciudad  es  the   Mediterranean  and  storms  on  the 

admitido,  iii  tiene  lugar."     A  genera-  ocean."     f.  100,  b.     Street  brawls, 

tion  later,    however,    duels  wore   more  24  jj^  t<p]  p^iifo  ,Iunto  al  Encanto," 

frequent,  judging  by  the  discussion  of  and  in  "  I'edir  Favur. " 
the   laws  of  "the   Duello"   in    "Solo 


476  CALDERON's  flattery  of  the  CREAT.    [Pkuiod  II. 

only  in  nianiiseript.  But  the  whole  of  this  (liscu.s.sion 
proceeded  on  the  authority  of  the  Church  and  the 
Fathers,  rather  than  upon  the  grounds  of  i)ublic  moral- 
ity and  social  order;  and  therefore  it  ended,  as  pre- 
vious attacks  of  the  same  kind  had  done,  h}- the 
*  405  triumph  of  the  theatre  ;  ^''  —  *  Calderon's  plays 
and  those  of  his  school  lieing  performed  and 
admired  quite  as  much  after  it  as  before. 

Calderon.  however,  not  only  relied  on  the  interest 
he  could  thus  excite  by  an  extravagant  story  full  of 
domestic  violence  and  duels,  but  often  introduced  flat- 
tering allusions  to  living  persons  and  passing  events, 
whiclr  he  thought  would  be  welcome  to  his  audience, 
whether  of  the  court  or  the  city.  Thus,  in  "  The  Scarf 
and  the  Flower,"  the  hero,  just  returned  from  Madrid,, 
gives  his  master,  the  Duke  of  Florence,  a  glowing  de- 
scription, extending  through  above  two  hundred  lines, 
of  the  ceremony  of  swearing  fealty,  in  1632,  to  Prince 
Balthasar,  as  Prince  of  Asturias ;  a  passage  which,  from 
its  spirit,  as  well  as  its  compliments  to  the  king  and  the 
royal  ftimily,  must  have  produced  no  small  effect  on 
the  stage.^*'     Again,  in  "  El  Escondido  y  la  Tapada,"  we 

^  Things  hail  not  been  in  an  easy  por  Gonzalo  NavaiTO,"  Madrid,   1684, 

state,  at  any  time,  since  the  troubles  4to,  whieli  is  a  reply  to  the  last  and  to 

already  noticed   (Chap.   XXI.)   in  the  other  works  of  the  same  kind.     Indeed, 

reigns  of  Philip  II.  and  Philip  III.,  as  the  number  of  tracts  published  on  this 

■\ve  may  see  from  the  Approl^ation  of  occasion  was  very   large.     A   real   at- 

Thomas  de  Avellaneda  to  Tom.  XXII.,  tempt  was  made  to  put  down  the  the- 

1665,  of  the  Comedias  Escogidius,  where  atre,  relying,  perhaps,  on  the  weakness 

that    pensonage,    a  grave    and    distin-  of  Charles  II.,  and  it  was  near  to  being 

guished  ecclesiastic,  thought  it  needful  successful. 

to  step  aside  from  his  proper  object,  ^  The  de.scription  of  Philip  IV.  on 

and  defend  the  theatre  against  attacks,  horseback,    as  he   pa.s.sed   through  the 

which    were   evidently   then    common,  streets  of  Madrid,  suggests  a  compari- 

tliough  they  have  not  reached  us.     But  son  with  Shakespeare's  Bolingbroke  in 

the  quarrel  of  1682-1685,  which  was  the  streets  of  London,  but  it  is  wholly 

a  violent  and  o]ien  ni]>ture,  can  be  best  against   the   Spani.sh    poet.      (Jorn.    1.) 

found  in  the  "  Apelacion  al  Tribunal  de  That  Calderon  meant  to  he  accurate  in 

los  Docto.s,"  Madrid,  1752,  4to,  (which  the  descriptions  contained  in  this  play 

is,  in  fact,  Guerra's  defence  of  himself  can  be  seen  by  reading  the  oflicial  ac- 

written  in  1683,  but  not  before  jiub-  count  of  tlie  ".Turamento  del  Principe 

lished,)  and  in   "  Discursos  contra  los  Balta.sar,"  1632,  prepared   by  Antonio 

«|Ue  defienden  el  Uso  de  las  Comedias,  Hurtado  de  ilcndoza,  of  which  the  sec- 


CuAr.  XXIV. J    C'ALDEUON's  FLATTERY  OF  THE  GREAT.        477 

have  a  stimii''-  intimation  ol"  the  sieo-e  of  ^  akuu-ia  on 
the  Po,  in  1635;^^  and  in  "Nothing  hke  Silence,"  re- 
peated alhisions  to  the  victoiy  over  the  Piinee  oi" 
Conde  at  Fontarabia,  in  1639.^^  In  "Beware  of  Smooth 
"Water,"  there  is  a  dazzhng  acconnt  of  the  pnbhc  recep- 
tion of  the  second  wife  of  Phihp  the  Fourth  at 
Madrid,  in  1649,  for  a  part  of  *  whose  pageant,  *  406 
it  will  be  recollected,  Calderon  was  employed 
to  furnish  inscriptions.^^  In  "  The  Blood-Stain  of  the 
Rose  "  —  founded  on  the  fjible  of  Venns  and  Adonis, 
and  written  in  honor  of  the  Peace  of  the  Pyrenees  and 
the  marriage  of  the  Infjinta  with  Louis  the  Fourteenth, 
in  1660  —  we  have  whatever  was  thought  j)roper  to 
be  said  on  such  subjects  by  a  favorite  poet,  both  in  the 
loa,  which  is  fortunately  preserved,  and  in  the  play  it- 
self.^^     But  there  is  no  need  of  multiplying  examples. 


Olid  edition  was  printed  by  order  of  tlie 
government,  in  its  printing-office,  166r>, 
4to  ;  or  perhaps  better,  in  a  similar  but 
less  formal  account  of  the  same  cere- 
111011}'  bv  Juan  Gomez  de  Mora,  1632, 
4to. 

^  It  is  genuine  Spanish.  The  hero 
.says  :  — 

En  Italia  estaba, 
Quaudo  la  loca  arogancia 
Del  Frances,  sobre  Valencia 
Del  Po,  ec. 

Jom.  I. 

^  He  makes  the  victory  more  impor- 
tant than  it  really  was,  but  liis  allu- 
sions to  it  show  that  it  was  not  tliought 
worth  while  to  irritate  the  French  in- 
terest ;  so  cautious  and  courtly  is  Cal- 
deron's  whole  tone.  It  is  in  Tom.  X. 
of  the  Comedias. 

2^  The  acconnt,  in  "  Guardate  de  la 
Agua  Mansa,"  of  the  triumphal  arch, 
for  which  Calderon  furnished  the  alle- 
gorical ideas  and  figures,  as  well  as  the 
inscriptions,  (both  Latin  and  Castilian, 
the  play  says,)  is  very  ample.  (Jor- 
nada III.)  To  celebrate  this  marriage 
of  Philip  IV.  with  Marianna  of  Au.stria, 
a  strange  book  of  above  a  hundred  pages 
of  eujihuistical  flattery,  by  the  pedantic 
scholar  Joseph  Pellicer  de  Tovar,  was 
printed  in  1650,  and  entitled  "Alma 


de  la  Gloria  de  Espana,  ec,  P^pitalamio 
I).  O.  C.  al  Rey  Nuestro  Senor  "  ;  —  the 
only  epithalamium  1  ever  heard  of  fill- 
ing a  volume,  and  all  in  prose.  For 
the  marriage  itself,  the  entrance  into 
Madrid,  etc.,  see  Florez,  Reynas  Ca- 
tolicas,  Tom.  II.,  2d  ed.  1770,  pp.  953, 
sqq. 

^"  Here,  again,  we  have  the  courtly 
spirit  in  Calderon.  He  insists  most 
carefully,  that  the  Peace  of  the  Pyi-e- 
nees  and  the  marriage  of  the  Infanta 
are  not  connected  with  each  other  ;  and 
that  the  marriage  is  to  be  regarded  ' '  a.s 
a  separate  aff'air,  treated  at  the  same 
time,  but  quite  indejiendently."  But 
his  audience  knew  better.  Indeed,  the 
very  suggestion  of  the  peace  and  the 
match  as  a  joint  arrangement  to  settle 
everything  between  the  two  countries 
came  from  Philip  IV.  Mad.  de  Motte- 
ville,  Jlemoires  d'Anne  d'Autriche, 
1750,  Tom.  V.  pp.  29.5,  296,  301,  418. 

From  the  "Viage  del  Rey  Nuestro 
Senor  D.  Felipe  IV.  el  Grande  a  la 
Froiitera  de  Francia,  por  Leonardo  del 
Castillo,"  Madrid,  1667,  4to, — a  work 
of  official  pretensions,  describing  the 
ceremonies  attending  both  the  marriage 
of  the  Infanta  and  the  conclusion  of  the 
peace,  —  it  appears  that,  wherever  Cal- 


478 


CALDEROX  8    STYLE. 


[Period  II. 


Calderon  nowhere  fails  to  consult  the  fashionable  and 
courtly,  as  -well  as  the  truly  national,  feeling  of  his 
time ;  and  in  ••  The  Second  Scipio  "  he  stoops  even  to 
gross  flattery  of  the  poor  and  hnbecile  Charles  the 
Second,  declaring  him  equal  to  that  great  patriot 
whom  Milton  pronounces  to  have  been  ''  the  height  of 

Rome."  31 
*40T         *ln  style  and  versification,  Calderon  has  high 

merits,  though  the}'  are  occasionally  mingled 
with  the  defects  of  his  age.  Brilliancv  is  one  of  his 
great  objects,  and  he  easily  attains  it.  But.  especially 
in  his  earlier  dramas,  he  falls,  and  with  apparent  will- 
ingness, into   the  showy  follv  of  his  time,  the  absurd 


deron  lias  alluded  to  either,  he  has  been 
true  to  the  facts  of  histoiy.  A  similar 
remark  may  be  made  of  the  "  Tetis  y 
Peleo,"  evideiitlj'  written  for  the  same 
occasion,  and  printed,  Comedias  Escogi- 
das,  Tom.  XXIX.,  1(J68  ;  —  a  poor  dra- 
ma by  an  obscure  author,  Josef  de  Bo- 
lea,  and  probabh'  one  of  the  several 
that  we  know,  from  Castillo,  were  rep- 
resented to  amuse  the  king  and  court 
on  their  journey.  A  strange  conse- 
quence of  the  Peace  of  the  Pyrenees 
and  the  marriage  of  Louis  XIV.  with 
the  Infanta  is  .said,  in  a  contemporary 
account,  to  have  followed  the  next 
year  ;  —  I  mean  the  canonization  of 
that  noble-hearted  Spaniard,  Tomas  de 
Villanueva,  who  was  selected  for  that 
honor  by  Alexander  VI.  becau.se  he  was 
"  a  -saint  fitted  to  be  a  mediator  to  in- 
tercede with  God  for  the  peace  of  these 
two  nnghty  crowns."  See  "  Eelacion 
de  las  Fiestas  ijue  el  real  Convento  de 
San  Augustin  de  la  Ciudad  de  Cor- 
doba a  celebrado  a  la  Canonicjacion  de 
Sto.  Tomas  de  Villanueva,"  4to,  s.  a. 
p.  2. 

31  This  flattery  of  Charles  II.  is  the 
more  disagreeable,  because  it  wa.s  oti'ered 
in  the  poet's  old  age  ;  for  Charles  did 
not  come  to  the  throne  till  Calderon 
was  .seventy-five  years  old.  But  it  is, 
after  all,  not  so  shocking  as  the  sort  of 
bla.sphemous  compliments  to  Philip  IV. 
and  his  queen  in  the  strange  mi/o  called 
"El  Buen  Retiro,"  acted  on  the  first 
Corpus  Chiisti  day  after  that  luxurious 


palace  was  finished,  contrasting,  too, 
as  it  does,  with  the  becoming  account 
of  the  burning  of  the  old  Buen  Retiro 
in  1641,  which  is  found  in  the  "Manos 
Blaiicas  no  Ofenden." 

One  of  the  most  marked  instances  of 
an  adroit  solicitation  of  popular  ap- 
]ilause  on  the  Spanish  stage  is  in  the 
"  ilonstruo  de  la  Fortuna,"  written 
jointly  by  Calderon,  ilontalvau,  and 
Roxas.  it  is  on  the  story  of  Felipa 
Catanea,  the  wa.sherwoman,  who  rose 
to  great  political  authority,  for  a  time, 
at  Naples,  in  the  early  part  of  the  four- 
teenth century,  and  was  then  put  to 
death,  with  all  her  family,  in  the  nio.st 
cruel  and  .savage  manner.  The  play  in 
question  is  taken  from  a  sort  of  ro- 
mance made  out  of  her  historj'  and 
fate  b}'  Pierre  Mattliieu,  which  was 
jirinted  in  French  in  1618,  and  trans- 
lated by  Juan  Pablo  Martyr  Rizo  into 
Spanish,  in  1625  ;  —  the  object  being, 
by  constant  allusions,  to  exasperate  pub- 
lic feeling  against  the  adventurer  Con- 
cini,  Marechal  d'Ancre,  and  his  wife, 
in  the  time  of  Louis  XIII.  Owing  to 
the  troubles  between  France  and  Si)ain, 
every  word  of  Calderon's  jday  must 
have  told  on  his  Spanish  audiences. 
There  is  a  ricJi  old  Engli.sh  translation 
of  ilatthieu's  l)ook  by  Sir  Thomas  Haw- 
kins, of  which  the  .second  edition  was 
])ublished  in  l»j39,  under  the  title  "Un- 
happy Prosjjerity  expre.s.sed  in  the  His- 
tory of  Elius  Sejanus  and  Philippa  the 
Catanian." 


Chap.  XXIV.]  CALDERON's    STYLE.  479 

sort  of  euphuism  which  Gongora  and  his  followers 
called  "  the  cultivated  style."  This  is  the  case,  for  in- 
stance, in  his  "  Love  and  Fortune,"  and  in  his  "  Con- 
flicts of  Love  and  Loyalty."  But  in  "  April  and  May 
Mornings,"  on  the  contrary,  and  in  ^'  No  Jesting  with 
Love,"  he  ridicules  the  same  style  with  great  severity; 
and  in  such  charming  plays  as  "  The  Lady  and  tlie 
Maid,"  and  "  The  Loud  Secret,"  he  wholly  avoids  it, — 
thus  adding  another  to  the  many  instances  of  distin- 
«:uished  men  who  have  sometimes  accommodated  them- 
selves  to  their  age  and  its  fashions,  which  at  others 
they  have  rebuked  or  controlled.^^  Everywhere,  how- 
ever, his  verses  charm  us  by  their  delicious  melody ; 
everywhere  he  indulges  himself  in  the  rich  variety  of 
measures  which  Spanish  or  Italian  poetry  offered  him, 
—  octave  stanzas,  terza  rima^  sonnets,  silvas^  Uras,  and 
the  different  forms  of  the  7'edondiUa,  with  the  ballad 
moiimdes  and  consonantes  ;  —  showing  a  mastery  over 
his  language  extraordinary  in  itself,  and  one  which, 
while  it  sometimes  enables  him  to  rise  to  the  loftiest 
tones  of  the  national  drama,  seduces  him  at  others  to 
seek  popular  favor  by  fantastic  tricks  that  were  wholly 
unworthy  of  his  genius.'^'^ 

*  But  we  are  not  to  measure  Calderon  as  his    *  408 
contemporaries   did.     We   stand  at  a   distance 

^■^  Some   of  the   best   of    Calderon's  popular   ballads  ;    of    which    the    Te- 

])lays  are  occasionally  disfigured  with  trarch's  address  in    "El  Mayor  Mon- 

the  estilo  cioUo ;  sirch  as  the  "Principe  struo,"  Jorn.  II.,  beginning  "Si  todas 

Constante,"  "  La  Vida  es  Sueuo,"   "El  quantas    desdichas,"    is    an    exani})le. 

Mayor  Monstruo,"  and  "EI  Medico  de  (Tom.  V.  p.  497.)     Calderon,  also,  be- 

su  Honra"  ;  and  precisely  these  plays  sides  the  forms  of  verse  noted  in  the 

we  know  were  the  works  of  his  youth,  text,    occasionally   inserts   glosas ;  — -a 

for  they  all  appear  in  the  two  volumes  happy  specimen  of  which  may  be  found 

printed    by   his   brother   in    1(5:35  and  in  "  Amar  despues  de  la  Muerte,"  Jorn. 

16.S7.  II  ,  beginning,    "No  es  menester  (pie 

'^^  I  think  Calderon  never  uses  Idank  digais,"   which  I  select   because,    like 

verse,  though  Lope  does.     The  narra-  other  similar  refinements  of  verse   in 

tive  portions  of  his  Comedias,  like  those  Calderon,  it  is  not  .^^o  ])rinted  as  to  in- 

of    other   dramatists,    have   sometimes  form  the  eye  what  it  is.     Tom.  V.  p. 

hcen   printed   separately,   and   sold  as  370. 


480  CALDERON's    CHAUACTEK.  [Pkkiod  il 

too  remote  and  impartial  for  such  indulgence  ;  and 
must  neither  pass  over  his  failures  nor  exaggerate  his 
merits.  We  must  look  on  the  whole  mass  of  his  efforts 
for  the  theatre,  and  inquire  what  he  reall}'  effected  for 
its  advancement,  —  or  rather  what  chans^es  it  under- 
went  in  his  hands,  both  in  its  more  gay  and  its  more 
serious  portions. 

Certainly  Calderon  appeared  as  a  writer  for  the 
Spanish  stage  under  peculiarly  favorable  circum- 
stances ;  and,  by  the  preservation  of  his  faculties  to 
an  age  beyond  that  commonly  allotted  to  man,  was 
enabled  long  to  maintain  the  ascendency  he  had  early 
established.  His  genius  took  its  direction  from  the 
very  first,  and  preserved  it  to  the  last.  When  he  was 
fourteen  years  old  he  had  written  a  piece  for  the 
stage,  which,  sixty  years  later,  he  thought  worthy  to 
be  put  into  the  list  of  dramas  that  he  furnished  to  the 
Admiral  of  Castile.^  When  he  was  thirty-five,  the 
death  of  Lope  de  Yega  left  him  without  a  rival.  The 
next  year,  he  was  called  to  court  b}"  Philip  the  Fourth, 
the  most  munificent  patron  the  Spanish  theatre  ever 
knew  ;  and  from  this  time  till  his  death,  the  destinies 
of  the  drama  were  in  his  hands  nearly  as  much  as  they 
had  been  before  in  those  of  Lope.  Forty-five  of  his 
longer  pieces,  and  probabh^  more,  were  acted  in  mag- 
nificent theatres  in  the  different  royal  palaces  of  Ma- 
drid and  its  neio-hborhood.  Some  must  have  been 
exhibited  with  great  pomp  and  at  great  expense,  like 
"  The  Three  Greatest  Wonders,"  each  of  whose  three 
acts  was  represented  in  the  open  air  on  a  sepa- 
rate  stage   by   a  different  company   of  performers  ;  ** 

**  "El  Carro  del  Cielo,"  wliii-h  Vera  seats,  but  there  were  three  stages  be- 

Tassis  says  he  \vrote  at  fourteen,  and  fore  them.     It  must  have  been  a  very 

which  we  should  be  not  a  little  pleased  brilliant    exhibition,    and    is    ijuaint- 

to  see.  ly   explained  in   the    loa    prefixed    to 

25  The  audience  remained  in  the  same  it. 


Cir.vT.  XXIV.]     CALDKRON's  CHARACTER.  481 

*  and  "  Love  the  G  reatest  Enchantment,"  brought  *  409 
out  upon  a  lloating  theatre  which  the  waste- 
ful extravagance  of  the  Count  Duke  Olivares  had 
erected  on  the  artificial  waters  in  the  gardens  of  the 
Buen  Retiro;^''  Indeed,  everything  shows  that  the 
patronage,  both  of  the  court  and  capital,  placed  Cal- 
deron  forward,  as  the  favored  dramatic  poet  of  his 
time.  This  rank  he  maintained  for  nearly  half  a 
century,  and  wrote  his  last  drama,  "  Hado  y  Devisa," 
founded  on  the  brilliant  fictions  of  Boiardo  and  Ariosto, 
when  he  was  eighty-one  j'ears  of  age.'^'  He  therefore 
was  not  only  the  successor  of  Lope  de  Vega,  but  en- 
joyed the  same  kind  of  popular  influence.  Between 
them,  they  held  the  empire  of  the  Spanish  drama  for 
ninety  ^^ears ;  during  which,  partly  by  the  number  of 
their  imitators  and  disciples,  but  chiefly  by  their  own 
jiersonal  resources,  they  gave  to  it  all  the  extent  and 
consideration  it  ever  possessed. 

Calderon,  however,  neither  effected  nor  attempted 
any  great  changes  in  its  forms.  Two  or  three  times, 
indeed,  he  prepared  dramas  that  were  either  wholly 
sung,  or  partly  sung  and  partly  spoken;  but  even 
these,  in  their  structure,  w^ere  no  more  operas  than 
his  other  plays,  and  were  only  a  courtly  luxury,  which 
it  was  attempted  to  introduce,  in  imitation  of  the 
genuine   opera  just  brought  into  France   from  Italy 

^  This  is  stated   in   the   title,   aiul  fully   acted   several   times   during   the 

gracefully  alluded  to  at  the  end  of  the  month. 

piece  :  —  The  exti-avagance  of  some  of  these 

Fu6  el  agua  tan  dichosa,  exhibitions  was  monstrous.     The  Alar- 

Que'm^rr'Sl'tro.  ^^^^  «f  Heliche  for  one  royal  entertain- 

ment   paid    sixteen   thousand   ducats ; 

The  water,   however,   was   not  very  and  for  another,  thirty  thousand.     Oli- 

happy  or  gi-acious  the  first  night ;  for  a  vares  exceeded  both  ;  and  to  the  cost 

storm  of  wind  scattered  the  vessels,  the  of  the  drama  in  the  palaces  of  Philip 

royal  part}',  and  a  supper  that  was  also  IV.  there  was  no  ap])areut  limit, 

among  tlie  floating  arrangements  of  the  ^'^  Vera  Tassis  makes  tliis  statement, 

occasion,  prepared  by  Cosme  Lotti,  the  See  also  F.  W.  V.  Schmidt,  Ueber  die 

Florentine  architect.      This  was  June  italienischen    Heldengcnlichte,    Berlin, 

12,   1639;    but   the  play  was  success-  1820,   12mo,  pp.  269-280. 
VOL.    II.                                    31 


482  caldki'.on's  ciiakacter.  [Pkkiod  it. 

by  Louis  the  Foiirteeiitli,  with  whose  court  that  of 
Spain  was  now  intimateh'  connected.^     But  this  was 

all.  Calderon  has  added  to  the  stage  no  new 
*  410    form   oi'   dramatic   composition.      Nor  has   *  he 

much  modified  those  forms  which  had  l)een 
ah'eady  arranged  and  settled  hy  Lope  de  Yega.  But 
he  has  shown  more  technical  exactness  in  combinmg 
liis  incidents,  and  adjusted  everything  more  skilfully 
for  staore  effect."^^  He  has  g^iven  to  the  whole  a  new 
coloring,  and,  in  souie  respects,  a  new  physiognomy. 
His  drama  is  more  poetical  in  its  tone  and  tendencies, 
and  has  less  the  air  of  truth  and  realit}^,  than  that  of 
his  great  predecessor.  In  its  more  successful  portions, 
—  which  are  rarely  objectionable  from  their  moral 
tone,  —  it  seems  almost  as  if  we  were  transported  to 
another  and  more  gorgeous  world,  where  the  scenery 
is  lighted  up  with  unknown  and  preternatural  splendor, 
and  where  the  motives  and  passions  of  the  personages 
that  pass  Ijefore  us  are  so  highly  Avrought,  that  we 
must  have  our  own  feelings  not  a  little  stirred  and 
excited  before  we  can  take  an  earnest  interest  in  what 
we  witness,  or  s^'mpathize  in  its  results.  But  even  in 
this  he  is  successful.  The  buoyancy  of  life  and  spirit 
that  he  has  infused  into  the  ga^^er  divisions  of  his 
drama,  and  the  moving  tenderness  that  pervades  its 
graver  and  more  tragical  portions,  lift  us  unconsciously 
to  the  height  Avhere  alone  his  ])i'ini;uit  exhibitions  can 
prevail  with  our  imaginations,  —  where  alone  we  can 
be  interested  and  deluded,  when  we  find  ourselves  in 

38  The  two  decided  attempts  of  Cal-  ^  Goethe  had  this  (juality  of  Calde- 

deron  in  the  opera  style  have  already  ron's  drama  in  his  mind  when  he  said 

been  noticed.     The  "  Laurel  de  Ajiolo"  to  Eckennann,  ((iespriiche  niit  Ooethe, 

(Comedias,  Tom.  VI.)  is  called  a  Fiesta  Leipzig,  1837,  Uand  I.  p.  1.51,)  "Seine 

(le  Zarzmlu,  in  whiidi  it  is  Siiid  (.Tom.  Stiicke  -sind  duvchaus  bretterrecht,  es 

I.),    "Se    canta   y  se   rejjresenta " ; —  ist  in  ihnen  kein  Zug,  der  nieht  fiir 

so  that  it  was  j)robably  partly  sung  and  die    beabsichtigt.-    Wirkung    calculiit 

]>artly  acted.     Of  the  Zarzudim  we  must  wird.     Calderon  ist  dasjenige  Oenie,  was 

.speak  when  we  eonie  to  Caudaino.  zugleich  den  giossten  Verstand  hatte." 


(  ii.vi'.  XXIV.]         calderon's  character.  483 

the  midst,  not  only  of  such  a  confusion  of  tlie  different 
forms  of  the  drama,  hut  of  such  a  confusion  of  the 
proper  Umits  of  dramatic  and  lyrical  poetry. 

To  this  elevated  tone,  and  to  the  constant  effort 
necessary  in  order  to  sustain  it,  we  owe  much  of  what 
distinguishes  Calderon  from  his  predecessors,  and  nearly 
all  that  is  most  individual  and  characteristic  in  his 
separate  merits  and  defects.  It  makes  him  less  easy, 
graceful,  and  natural  than  Lope.  It  imparts  to  his 
style  a  mannerism,  which,  notwithstanding  the  marvel- 
lous richness  and  fluency  of  his  versification,  sometimes 
wearies  and  sometimes  offends  us.  It  leads  him 
to  repeat  from  himself  *  till  many  of  his  person-  *  411 
ag-es  become  standino;  characters,  and  his  heroes 
and  their  servants,  his  ladies  and  their  confidants,  his 
old  men  and  his  buffoons,"^*^  seem  to  be  produced,  like 
the  masked  figures  of  the  ancient  theatre,  to  represent, 
with  the  same  attributes  and  in  the  same  costume,  the 
different  intrigues  of  his  various  plots.  It  leads  him, 
in  short,  to  regard  the  whole  of  the  Spanish  drama  as 
a  mere  form,  within  whose  limits  his  imagination  may 
be  indulged  without  restraint ;  and  in  which  Greeks 
and  Romans,  heathen  divinities,  and  the  supernatural 
fictions  of  Christian  tradition,  may  be  all  brought  out 
in  Spanish  fashions  and  with  Sj)anish  feelings,  and  led, 
throuoh  a  succession  of  ino-enious  and  interestino; 
adventures,  to  the  catastrophes  their  stories  happen  to 
require. 

In  carrying  out  this  tlieory  of  the  Spanish  drama, 
Calderon,  as  we  have  seen,  often  succeeds,  and  often 
fails.  But  when  he  succeeds,  his  success  is  of  no  com- 
mon character.     He  then  sets  before  us  only  models 

^'^  A  good  many  of  Calderon's  gra-  "  El  Alcayde  de  si  misnio,"  "Casa  con 
ciosos,  or  buffoons,  are  excellent,  as,  for  Dos  Puertas,"  "  La  Gran  Zenobia," 
instance,  those  in  "  La  VidaesSueno,"      "La  Dama  Duende,"  etc. 


484  CALDEROX'S    CHARACTER.  [Period  11. 

of  ideal  l)eaiity.  perfection,  and  splendor;  —  a  world, 
he  would  have  it,  into  which  nothing  should  enter  but 
tlie  highest  elements  of  the  national  genius.  There, 
the  fervid,  yet  grave,  enthusiasm  of  the  old  Castilian 
heroism;  the  chivalrous  adventures  of  modern,  courtly 
honor;  the  generous  self-devotion  of  individual  loyalty; 
and  that  reserved,  but  passionate  love,  which,  in  a  state 
of  society  where  it  was  so  rigoroush^  withdrawn  from 
notice,  became  a  kind  of  unacknowledged  religion  of 
the  heart;  —  all  seem  to  find  their  appropriate  home. 
And  when  he  has  once  brought  us  into  this  land  of 
enchantment,  whose  glowing  impossibilities  his  own 
genius  has  created,  and  has  called  around  him  forms 
of  such  grace  and  loveliness  as  those  of  Clara  and 
Dona  Angela,  or  heroic  forms  like  those  of  Tuzani, 
Mariamne,  and  Don  Ferdinand,  then  he  has  reached 
the  highest  point  he  ever  attained,  or  ever  proposed  to 
himself;  —  he  has  set  before  us  the  grand  show  of 
an  idealized  drama,  resting  on  the  purest  and 
*  412  *  noblest  elements  of  the  Spanish  national  char- 
acter, and  one  which,  with  all  its  unquestionable 
defects,  is  to  be  placed  among  the  extraordinary  phe- 
nomena of  modern  poetry.*^ 

*i  Calderon,  likf  many  other  authors  Affanose"  from  "Gustos  y  Disgustos." 

of  the  Spanish  theatre,  has,  as  we  have  And  so  of  otliers. 

seen,  been  a  mag-azine  of  plots  for  tlie  I  have  had  occasion  to  speak  of  sev- 

dramatists  of  other  nations.      Among  eral  of  tlie  translations  of  Calderon,  and 

those  who  have  borrowed  the  most  from  jierhaps  should  add  here  a  few  words 

him  are  thi-  vounger  ( 'orneille  and  Goz-  on  the  principal  of  them,    with  their 

zi.      Thus,    Corneille's   "Engagements  dates.      A.    W.    Schlegel,    1803-1S09, 

du  Ha.sard  "  is  from  "Los  Euiikmios  de  enlarged  1845,  2  vols.  ;  —  Ones,  1815- 

un  Acaso";    "  Le  Feint  Astrologue,"  1842,  8  vols.  ; —  Malsburg,  1819- 1825, 

from    "El  Astrologo    Fingido";    "  Le  6  vols.;  —  Martin,    1844,    2   vols.;  — 

Geolier  de  soi  menie,"   from  "El  Al-  Eichendorff,  Gei.stliche  Schauspiele,  (ten 

cayde  de  SI  mismo  "  ;  besiih's  which,  his  Autos,)    1846-1853,     2   vols.  ;  —  two 

"Circe"  and  "L'lnconnu"  jnove  that  plays  by  a  Lady,  1851  ;  —  a  single  one 

he  had  well   studied  Calderon's   .show  by'  Cardinal    Diepenbrock,     1852;  — 

pieces.     Gozzi  took  his   "Publico  Se-  and  an  Auto  by  Franz  Lorinser,  1855; 

creto"  from  the   "  Secreto  a  Voces";  — all  in  6-Vr/««9i,  and  almost  uniformly 

his  "  Eco  e  Narci.so"  from  the  play  of  in  the  measures  and  manner  of  their 

the  same  name;  and  his  "Due  Notti  oiigiuals.     In  yto^i««,  lifteeu  plays,  se- 


Chai'.  XXIV.] 


CALDEUON  S    CHARACTER. 


485 


Icoted  with  care,  are  translated  by  Pie- 
tro  Monti,  all  but  the  "Principe  Con- 
stante  "  in  prose,  in  his  Teatro  Scelto, 
4  vols.,  1855.  In  French,  Danias-Hi- 
nard,  3  vols.,  1841-1844,  in  prose. 
In  English,  six  dramas  by  Kdwaril  Fitz- 
gerald, 1853,  and  six  more,  the  same 
year,  by  Denis  Florence  McCarthy,  2 
vols.,  who.se  version,  often  made  in  the 
inonisures  of  the  original,  will,  I  tliink, 
give  an  English  reader  a  nearer  idea  of 
Calderon's  versifu:ation  than  he  will 
readily  obtain  elsewhere,  and  whose 
Preface  will  direct  him  to  the  other 
sources  in  our  own  language.  Put 
those  of  Fitzgerald  are  good,  although 
they  are  in  blank  verse  ;  so  choice  and 
charming  is  his  poetical  language.  In- 
deed, I  doubt  whether  the  short  S})an- 
ish  measures  can  be  made  effective  in 
English  dramatic  composition.  The 
best  attempt  known  to  me  is  in  Trench's 
translation  of  "La  Vida  es  Sucnlo,"  at 
the  eiul  of  a  little  volume  on  Calderon's 
Life  and  Genius,  i)riuted  both  in  Lon- 
don and  New  York,  in  1856. 

Since  the  preceding  note  was  pub- 
lished, Mr.  McCarthy  has  given  to  the 
world  translations  of  two  plays  and  an 
auto  of  Calderon,  under  the  title  of 
' '  Love,  the  gi-eatest  Enchantment ;  the 
Sorceries  of  Sin  ;  the  Devotion  of  the 
Cross  ;  from  the  Spanish  of  Calderon, 
attempted  strictly  iu  the  Spanish  Aso- 


nante  and  other  imitative  Verse,"  1861  ; 
printing,  at  the  same  time,  a  care- 
fully corrected  text  of  the  Spanish 
originals,  page  by  page,  opposite  to 
his  tianslations.  It  is,  I  think,  one 
of  the  boldest  attempts  ever  made  in 
English  verse.  Jt  is,  too,  as  it  seems  to 
me,  remarkably  successful.  Not  that 
asoMintcH  can  be  made  fluent  and  grace- 
ful in  English  verse,  or  easily  percep- 
tible to  an  English  ear,  but  tliat  the 
Spanish  air  and  character  of  Calderon 
are  so  happily  and  strikingly  pi'eserved. 
Previous  to  the  two  volumes  noted 
above,  the  "Sorceries  of  Sin"  had  ap- 
peared in  the  "Atlantis,"  1859;  bnt 
in  the  present  volume  Mr.  McC'arthy 
has  far  surpassed  all  Ik;  had  previously 
done  ;  for  Calderon  is  a  poet  who, 
whenever  he  is  translated,  should  have 
his  very  excesses  and  extravagances, 
liioth  in  thought  and  manner,  fully 
produced  in  order  to  give  a  faithful 
idea  of  what  is  grandest  and  most 
distinctive  in  his  genius.  Mr.  McCar- 
thy has  done  this,  I  conceive,  to  a. 
degree  which  I  had  previously  sup- 
posed impossible.  Nothing,  I  think, 
in  the  English  language  will  give  us 
so  true  an  imj^ression  of  what  is  most 
characteristic  of  the  Spanish  drama, 
perhaps  I  ought  to  say  of  what  is 
most  characteristic  of  Spanish  poetry 
generally. 


*413  *CHAPTErt    XXV. 

DRAMA    AFTER    CALDEROX. MORETO. COMEDIAS     DE     FIGUROX. ROXAS. 

PLAYS     BY     MORE     TUAX     OXE     AUTHOR. CUBILLO. LEYBA. CAXCER. 

EXRIQCEZ     GOMEZ.  SIGLER.  ZARATE.  BARRIOS.  DIAMAXTE.  HOZ. 

MATOS  FRAGOSO. SOLfS. CAXDAMO. ZARZUELAS. ZAMORA. CAXI- 

ZARES,  AXD    OTHERS. DECLIXE    OF    THE    SFAXISH    DRAMA. 

The  most  brilliant  period  of  the  Spanish  drama  fiills 
within  the  reign  of  Philip  the  Fourth,  ^vllich  extended 
from  1621  to  1665,  and  embraced  the  last  fourteen 
years  of  the  life  of  Lope  de  Vega,  and  the  thirty  most 
fortunate  years  of  the  life  of  Calderon.  But  after  this 
period  a  change  begins  to  be  apparent ;  for  the  school 
of  Lope  was  that  of  a  drama  in  the  freshness  and  buoy- 
ancy of  youth,  while  the  school  of  Calderon  belongs 
to  the  season  of  its  maturit}^  and  gradual  decay.  Not 
that  this  change  is  strongly  marked  during  Calderon's 
life.  On  the  contrary,  so  long  as  he  lived,  and  espe- 
cially during  the  reign  of  his  great  patron,  there  is 
little  visible  decline  in  the  dramatic  poetry  of  Spain : 
though  still,  through  the  crowd  of  its  disciples  and 
amidst  the  shouts  of  admiration  that  followed  it  on  the 
stage,  the  symptoms  of  its  coming  fate  may  be  dis- 
cerned. 

Of  those  that  divided  the  favor  of  the  public  with 
their  great  master,  none  stood  so  near  to  him  as  Agus- 
tin  Moreto,  of  wlioiii  we  know  much  less  than  would  be 
important  to  the  history  of  the  Spanish  drama.  He 
was  born  at  Madrid,  and  was  baptized  on  the  9th  of 
April,  1618.  His  best  studies  were  no  doubt  those  he 
made   at  Alcala,  between   1634  and  1639.     Later  he 


CiiAi'.  XXV.]  MORETO.  4S7 

reirioved  to  Toledo,  iiiul  entered  tlie  houseliold  of  the 
Cardinal  Arelibishop,  taking   holy   orders,   and 
joining  a  brotherhood  as  early  *  as  1659.     Ten    *  414 
years  later,  in  16 G 9,  he  died,  only  fifty-one  years 
old,  leaA'ing  whatever  of  property  he  possessed  to  the 
poor.^ 

Three  voliniies  of  liis  i)lays,  and  a  nmnber  more 
never  collected  into  a  volume,  Avere  })rinted  between. 
1654  and  1681,  though  he  himself  seems  to  have 
regarded  them,  during  the  greater  part  of  that  time^^ 
only  as  specious  follies  or  sins.  They  are  in  all  the 
different  forms  known  to  the  age  to  which  they  belong, 
and,  as  in  the  case  of  Calderon,  each  form  melts  imper- 
ceptibly into  the  character  of  some  other.  But  the 
theatre  was  not  then  so  strictly  watched  as  it  had 
been ;  and  the  religious  plays  Moreto  has  left  us  are, 
perhaps  on  this  account,  oftener  connected  with  known 
facts  in  the  lives  of  saints,  and  with  known  events  in 
history,  like  "  The  Most  Fortunate  Brothers,"  whicli 
contains  the  story  of  the  Seven  Sleepers  of  EphesuS;, 

1  The  little  we  know  of  Moreto  lias  Lagrimas    Panegiricas    on    Montalvan, 

been  discovered  or  carefully  collected  1639  (f.  48,  a)  ;  and,  two  years  after  his 

by  Don  Luis  Fernandez  Guerra  y  Orbe,  death,  in  the  "  Coniedias  Escogidas  de 

and  is  to  be  found  in  his  excellent  edi-  los  Mejores  Ingenios,"  Tom.  XXXVI., 

tion  of  the   "Comedias  Escogidas"  of  Madrid,  1671,  we  have  the  "Santa  Rosa 

Moreto,  filling  Volume  XXXIX.  of  the  del  Peni,"  the  tir.st  two  act.s  of  which 

Biblioteca  de  Autores  Espaholes,  1856.  are  .said  to  have  been  his  last  work,  the 

The  story  that  Moreto  was  concerned  remaining   act    being    by   Lanini,    but 

in  the  violent  death  of  Mediuilla,  as  with  no  intimation  when  Moreto  wrote 

suggested  by  Ochoa,   (Teatro  Espanol,  the  two  others.     This  old  collection  of 

Paris,  Tom.  IV.,  1838,  p.  248,)  always  Comedias  Escogidas   contains    forty-six 

incredilile,  gets  its  coup  de  grace  from  plays  attributed  in  whole  or  in  pai't  to 

the    date    of    Moreto's    birth,    settled  Moieto,  —  a  strong  proof  of  his  great 

by    Don    Luis    to    have    occurred    in  ]iopularity  ;  but  one  of  them,  at  least, 

1618,  only  two  years  before  Medinilla's  is  not  his.     I  mean  the  "Condesa  de 

death.  Belflor,"  (in  Tom.  XXV.,  1666,  f.  18,) 

As  to  ]\Ioreto's  works,   I  possess  his  which  is  neitliei'   more   nor   less  than 

ConK'dias,    Tom.    I.,    Madrid,    1677   (of  Lope's  well-known   "  Pei'ro  del  Horte- 

uhich    Antonio    notes    an    edition    in  lano."     The  earliest  play  known  to  nie 

16.54)  ;  Tom.   II.,  Valencia,  1676  ;  and  to  have   been   published   by  Moreto  is 

Tom.  III.,  Madiid,  1681,  all  in  4to;—  "  Loque  nierece  un  soldado"  in  Difer- 

besides  wdiich  I  have  about  a  dozen  of  entes    Comedias,    Tom.    XLIV.,    1650,, 

his  plays,  found  in  none  of  them.      Mo-  which  1  po.sse.ss. 
reto  api)tuirs  as  a  known  author  in  the. 


488  M0];ET0.  [Period  IT. 

ootli  1)eforc  they  wore  enclosed  in  the  cave  and  when 
they  awoke  from  their  miraculous  repose  of  two  cen- 
turies." A  few  are  hei'oic,  such  as  '•  The  Brave  Justi- 
ciary of  Castile."  —  a  drama  of  spirit  and  power,  on 
the  character  of  Peter  the  Cruel,  thou"'h,  like  most 
other  plays  in  which  that  monarch  appears,  it  is  not 
one  in  which  tlie  truth  of  history  is  respected. 
*  415  But,  in  general,  Moreto's  dramas  are  of  the  *  old 
cavalier  class  ;  and  when  they  are  not,  they  take, 
in  order  to  suit  the  humor  of  the  time,  manj'  of  the 
characteristics  of  this  truly  national  form. 

In  one  point,  however,  he  made,  if  not  a  change  in 
the  direction  of  the  drama  of  his  predecessors,  yet  an 
advance  upon  it.  He  devoted  himself  more  to  char- 
acter-drawing, and  often  succeeded  Ijetter  in  it  than 
they  had.  His  first  play  of  this  kind  was  "  The  Aunt 
and  the  Niece,"  printed  as  early  as  1G54.  The  char- 
acters are  a  widow,  —  extremely  anxious  to  be  mar- 
ried, but  foolishly  jealous  of  the  charms  of  her  niece. 
—  and  a  vaporing,  epicurean  officer  in  the  army,  who 
cheats  the  elder  lady  with  flattery,  while  he  wins  the 
younger.  It  is  curious  to  observe,  however,  that  the 
hint  for  this  drama  —  which  is  the  oldest  of  the  class 
called  figiu'on,  from  the  prominence  of  one  not  very  (SX^- 
iiified  y>>//'/'t'  in  it  —  is  yet  to  be  found  in  Lope  de  Vega, 
to  whom,  as  we  have  seen,  is  to  be  traced,  directly  or 
indirectly,  almost  every  form  and  shade  of  dramatic 
composition  that  finally  succeeded  on  the  Spanish 
.stage  .'^ 

Moreto's  next  attempt  of  the  same  sort  is  even 
better    known,    "  The    Handsome    Don    Diego,"  —  a 

2  "  Los    iiia.s   Dii-.liosos   Herinauos."  tempt  at  the  preservation  of  the  trutli 

It  is  the  fii-st  play  in  the  tliird  vohmie  ;  of  liistory  in  its  aecoiiii»animeuts  than 

and  though  it  does  not  (•onesj)onil  in  is  loninion  in  the  old  Spanish  drama, 
its  story  with  the  l)eautiful   lej^cnd  as  •'  Conit-diiis  de   Lope  de  Vega,   Tom. 

Oibbon  gives  it,  there  is  a  greater  at-  X.XIV.,  Zaragoza,  Iti-il,  f.  lO. 


CiiAi-.   XXV.]  MOKKTO.  489 

phrase  that  has  become  a  iiatioiuil  proverl).'  ll  sets 
forth  with  great  spirit  the  character  of  a  fop,  Avho 
believes  that  every  lady  he  looks  upon  must  fall  in 
love  with  him.  The  very  first  sketch  of  him  at  his 
morning  toilet,  and  the  exhibition  of  the  sincere  con- 
tempt he  feels  for  the  more  sensible  lover,  who  refuses 
to  take  such  frivolous  care  of  his  person,  are  fidl  of 
life  and  truth ;  and  the  whole  ends,  with  appropriate 
justice,  by  his  being  deluded  into  a  marriage  with  a 
cunning  waiting-maid,  who  is  passed  off  upon  him  as 
a  rich  countess. 

Some  of  Moreto's  plays,  as,  for  instance,  his  "  Trampa 
Adelante,"  obtained  the  name  of  gracioso,  because  the 
buffoon  is  made  the  character  upon  whom  the  action 
turns  ;  and  in  one  case,  at  least,  he  wrote  a  bur- 
lesque *  farce  of  no  value,  taking  his  subject  *  416 
from  the  achievements  of  the  Cid.  But  his 
general  tone  is  that  of  the  old  intriguing  comedy ;  and 
though  he  is  sometimes  indebted  for  his  plots  to  his 
predecessors,  and  especially  to  Lop'e,  yet,  in  nearly 
every  instance,  and  perhaps  in  every  one,  he  surpassed 
his  model,  and  the  drama  he  wrote  superseded  on  the 
public  stage  the  one  he  imitated.^ 

This  was   the   case  with   the   best  of  all  his  plays^ 
Disdain  met  with  Disdain,"  for  the  idea  of  which  he 
was  indebted  to  Lope,  whose  "Miracles  of  Contempt  "^ 

*  "  El  lindo  Don  Diego."     V>at  Undo  in  Martinez  de  la  Rosa,  Oltra.s,   Paris, 

was  not,  I  think,  then  vised  commonly  1827,   12mo,  Tom.    11.    ]i|).    443-446. 

in   a   disparaging    or    doubtful    sense.  But  the  excuses  there  given  for  him 

The  Infanta  and  her  father  Philip  IV.  hardly  cover  such  a  plagiarism  as  his 

called  Louis  XIV.  "lindo  "when  they  "  Valiente  Justiciero"   is,  from  Lope'.s. 

first  saw  him  at  the  Isle  of  Conferences  "  Infanzon  de  Illescas."     Cancer  y  Ve- 

before  the  marriage  in  1660.      Mad.  de  lasco,   a  contemjjorary  yioct,  in  a  little- 

Motteville,  Memoires,  Tom.  V.,   1750,  Jcio  d'fsprit  represents  Morcto  as  sitting- 

pp.  398,  401.  down  with  a  bundle  of  old  ])lays  to  .see 

^  "  The  Aunt  and  the  Niece  "  is  from  what   he   can    cunningly   steal   out  of 

Lope's  "  De  quando  aca  nos  Vino,"  and  them,  spoiling  all  he  steals.     (0bra.s,. 

"  It  cannot  be"  from  his  "  Mayor  Ini-  Madrid,   1761,   4to,    ]).    113.)      But  in 

])ossi})le."     There  are  good  remarks  on  this  Cancer  was  unjust  to  Jloreto's  tal- 

these  and  other  of  Moreto's  indtations  ent,  if  not  to  his  lioucstv. 


490  MORETO.  [Period  II. 

has  long  been  forgotten  as  an  acting  })lav.  while  Mo- 
reto's  still  maintains  its  place  on  the  Spanish  stao-e, 
of  which  it  is  one  of  the  brightest  ornaments.^  The 
Nvplot  is  remarkably  simple  and  well  contrived.  Diana, 
heiress  to  the  county  of  Barcelona,  laughs  at  love  and 
refuses  marriage,  under  whatever  form  it  may  be  urged 
upon  her.  Her  fotlier.  whose  projects  are  unreasonably 
thwarted  l)y  such  conduct,  induces  the  best  and  gayest 
of  the  neighboring  princes  to  come  to  his  court,  and 
engage  in  tournaments  and  other  knightly  sports,  in 
order  to  win  her  favor.  She,  however,  treats  them  all 
with  an  equal  coldness,  and  even  with  a  pettish  dis- 
dain, until,  at  last,  she  is  piqued  into  admiration  of  the 
Count  of  Urgel,  by  his  apparent  neglect,  which  he  skil- 
fully places  on  the  ground  of  a  contempt  like  her  own 
for  all  love,  but  which,  in  fict.  only  conceals  a  deep  and 

faithful  passion  for  herself. 
*  417  *  The  charm  of  the  piece  consists  in  the  poeti- 
cal spirit  with  which  this  design  is  wrought  out. 
The  character  of  the  (jracioso  i's  well  drawn  and  well 
defined,  and.  as  in  most  Spanish  plays,  he  is  his  lord's 
confidant,  and  by  his  shrewdness  materially  helps  on 
the  action.  At  the  opening,  after  having  heard  from 
his  master  the  position  of  affairs  and  the  humors  of  the 
lady,  he  gives  his  advice  in  the  following  lines,  which 
embody  the  entire  argument  of  the  drama  :  — 

r 

My  lord,  your  ciisc  I  liave  discreetly  heard, 
And  find  it  neither  wonderful  nor  new  ;  — 

®  In  1664  Moliere  imitated  the  "Des-  however,  is  kno\ni  wherever  the  Span- 
den  con  el  Desden"iii  his  "  Princesse  ish  language  is  spoken,  and  a  good  trans- 
d'Elide,"  which  was  rcjircsentcd  at  Vcr-  lation  of  it  into  German  is  common  on 
sailles  by  the  command  of  Louis  XIV.,  the  (ienaan  stage.  Another  and  ditlV-r- 
with  great  splendor,  before  his  queen  ent  translation  in  Dohm's  "Spanisehe 
and  his  mother,  both  Spanish  iirin-  Dramen,"  (Tom.  II.,  1S4'2, )  presenting 
cesses  The  complimt-nt,  as  far  as  the  the  measures  of  the  oiiginal,  —  rliynies 
king  was  concerned  in  it,  was  a  mag-  and  fi,ioiuin/^s,  —  seems  to  me  quite  re- 
niticent  one  ;  — on  Molicrc's  part  it  was  markablc  In  the  .same  volume,  too,  is 
a  failure,  and  liLs  play  is  now  no  longci-  an  equally  good  translation  of  Lope  du 
acted.     The  original  drama  of  Moreto,  Vega's  "  Milagros  del  Desprecio." 


Chap.  XXV;] 


ROXAS. 


491 


In  slioit,  it  is  an  evorv-ilaj-  affair. 

Why,  look  ye,  now  !     In  my  young  boyhood,  sir, — 

When  the  full  vintage  came  and  grapes  were  strewed, 

Yea,  wasted,  on  the  ground,  —  I  had,  be  sure, 

No  appetite  at  all.     Ijut  aftei-wards. 

When  they  were  gathered  in  for  winter's  use. 

And  hung  aloft  upon  the  kitchen  rafters. 

Then  nothing  looked  so  tempting  half  as  they  ; 

And,  climbing  cunningly  to  reach  them  there, 

I  caught  a  pretty  fall  and  bi'oke  my  ribs. 

Now,  this,  sir,  is  your  case,  — the  very  sanio.^ 

There  is  an  excellent  scene,  in  which  the  Count, 
perceiving  he  has  made  an  impression  on  the  lady's 
heart,  fairly  confesses  his  love,  while  she,  who  is  not 
yet  entirely  subdued,  is  able  to  turn  round  and  treat 
him  with  her  accustomed  disdain  f  from  all  which  he 
recovers  himself  with  an  address  greater  than  her  own, 
j)rotesting  his  very  confession  to  have  been  only  a  part 
of  the  show  they  were  by  agreement  carrying  on. 
But  this  confirms  the  lady's  passion,  which  at  last 
becomes  imcontroUable,  and  the  catastrophe  imme- 
diately follows.  She  pleads  guilty  to  a  desperate  love, 
and  marries  him.        ^ 

Contemporary  with  Moreto,  and  nearly  as  successful 
among  the  earlier  writers  for  the  stage,  was 
Francisco  *  de  Roxas,  who  flourished  during  the  *  418 
greater  jDart  of  Calderon's  life,  and  may  have 
survived  him.  He  was  born  in  Toledo  in  1607,  and  in 
1641  was  made  a  knight  of  the  Order  of  Santiago,  but 
when  he  died  is  not  known.  Two  volumes  of  his 
plays  were  published  in  1640  and  1645,  and  in  the 
Prologue  to  the  second  he  speaks  of  publishing  yet  a 


Atento,  Seiior,  he  estado, 

Y  el  succeso  no  me  admira, 
Porque  esso,  Seiior,  es  cosa, 
Que  sucede  cada  dia. 

Mira  ;  siendo  yo  muchaeho, 
Auia  en  mi  casa  veudimia, 

Y  por  el  suelo  las  ubas 
Nunca  me  dauan  codicia. 
Passo  este  tiempo,  y  despues 


Colgaron  en  la  cocina 
Las  ubas  para  el  Inuierno  ; 
Y  yo  viendolas  arriba , 
Kabiaua  por  comer  dellas, 
Tanto  que,  trepando  un  dia 
Por  alcan<;arlas,  cai, 
Y^  me  quebr6  las  costillas. 
Este  es  el  caso,  el  por  el. 

Jorn.  I. 


492  ROXAS.  [Pkkiod  II. 

thinl.  wliicli  never  appeared;  80  that  we  have  still 
only  the  twenty-fonr  plays  contamed  in  these  vol- 
umes, and  a  few  others  that  at  different  thiies  were 
printed  separately.®  He  belongs  decidedly  to  Cal- 
deron's  school,  —  imless,  indeed,  he  began  his  career 
too  early  to  be  a  mere  follower ;  and  in  poetical  merit, 
if  not  in  dramatic  skill,  takes  one  of  the  next  places 
after  Moreto.  But  he  is  very  careless  and  unequal. 
His  plays  entitled  '•  He  who  is  a  King  must  not  be  a 
Father  "  and  '■'  The  Asjjics  of  Cleopatra  "  are  as  extrav- 
agant as  almost  anything  in  the  Spanish  heroic  drama ; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  "  What  Women  really  are  " 
and  "  Foil}'  rules  here  "  are  among  the  most  effective 
of  the  class  of  intrifruino;  comedies.^  In  o-eneral,  he  is 
most  successful  when  his  tone  tends  towards  tragedy. 

His  best  play,  and  one  that  has  always  kept  its  place 
on  the  stage,  is  called  "'  None  below  the  King."  The 
scene  is  laid  in  the  troublesome  times  of  Alfonso  the 
Eleventh,  and  is  in  many  respects  true  to  them.  Don 
Garcia,  the  hero,  is  a  son  of  Garci  Bermudo,  who  had 
conspired  against  the  father  of  the  reigning  mon- 
arch, and,  in  consequence  of  this  circumstance,  Garcia 
lives  concealed  as  a  peasant  at  Castanar,  near  To- 
ledo, very  rich,  but  unsuspected  by  the  government. 

^  From  a  notice  by  Vera  Tas.sis  ])r(!-  Concerning  an  attcmjtt  to  assassinate 

fixed  to  the  first  volume  of  Calderon's  Eoxas  in  1G38,  and  concerning  the  prob- 

Comedias,   1685,    I  inter  that  a  play  of  able  time  of  his  death,  see  some  curious 

Roxas  was   printed   as  early  as  1C35.  facts    in    Schack's   Nachtrage,    p.    90. 

Both  volumes  of  the  Comedias  de  Roxas  But  it  is  doubtful,    I   think,   whether 

were  reprinted,  Madrid,  1680,  4to,  and  this  Roxas,  to  whom  Schack  refers,  was 

both  their  Licencius  are  dated  on  the  the  dramatist. 

same   day;  but   the    publisher   of  the  ^  His    "  Per.siles   y   Sigismunda"  is 

first,  who  dedicates  it  to  a  distinguished  from    Cervantes's    novel    of    the    same 

nobleman,  is  the  .same  person  to  whom  name.     On  the  other  hand,   his   "Ca- 

the  second  is  dedicated  by  the  jirinter  sarse  por  vengarse  "  is  plundered,  with- 

of  both.     yf«/o.«  of  Roxas  may  be  found  out   ceremony,   for  the   story  of   "Le 

in   "Autos,   Loas,  etc.,"  '[f>'>^i,  and  in  Mariage  de  Vengeance,"  (Gil  Bias,  Liv. 

"Xavidady  Corpus  Cliristi  Festejados,"  IV.    c.    4,)    by   Le    Sage,    who    never 

collected   by   Pedro   de    Robles,    1664.  neglected   a   good   ojijiortimity   of  the 

But  they  are  no  better  than  those  of  sort, 
his  contemporaries  generally. 


Chap.  XXV.]  ROXAS.  493 

*  In  a  period  of  great  anxiety,  Avlien  the  king  *  419 
wishes  to  take  Algeziras  from  the  Moors,  and 
demands,  for  that  purpose,  free  contributions  from  liis 
subjects,  those  of  Garcia  are  so  ample  as  to  attract 
especial  attention.  The  king  inquires  who  is  this  rich 
and  loyal  peasant;  and  his  curiosity  being  still  farther 
excited  by  the  answer,  he  determines  to  visit  him  at 
Castanar,  incognito,  accompanied  by  only  two  or  three 
favored  courtiers.  Garcia,  however,  is  privately  advised 
of  the  honor  that  awaits  Inm,  but,  from  an  error  in  the 
description,  mistakes  the  person  of  one  of  the  attend- 
ants for  that  of  the  king  himself 

On  this  mistake  the  plot  turns.  The  courtier  whom 
Garcia  wrongly  supposes  to  be  the  king  falls  in  love 
with  Blanca,  Garcia's  wife  ;  and,  in  attempting  to  enter 
her  apartments  by  night,  when  he  believes  her  hus- 
band to  be  away,  is  detected  by  the  husband  in  person. 
Now,  of  course,  comes  the  struggle  between  Spanish 
loyalty  and  Spanish  honor.  Garcia  can  visit  no  ven- 
geance on  a  person  whom  he  believes  to  be  his  king ; 
and  he  has  not  the  slightest  suspicion  of  his  wife, 
whom  he  knows  to  be  faithfully  and  fondly  attached 
to  him.  But  the  remotest  appearance  of  an  intrigue 
demands  a  bloody  satisfaction.  He  determines,  there- 
fore, at  once,  on  the  death  of  his  loving  wife.  Amidst 
his  misgivings  and  delays,  however,  she  escapes,  and 
is  carried  to  court,  whither  he  himself  is,  at  the  same 
moment,  called  to  receive  the  greatest  honors  that  can 
be  conferred  on  a  subject.  In  the  royal  presence,  he 
necessarily  discovers  his  mistake  regarding  the  king's 
person.  From  this  moment,  the  case  becomes  perfectly 
plain  to  him,  and  his  course  perfectly  simple.  He 
passes  instantly  into  the  antechamber.  With  a  single 
blow  his  victim  is  laid   at  his  feet ;    and   he  returns, 


494  PLAYS    BY    SEVERAL    AUTHORS.  [Period  IL 

.sheatliing  his  bloody  dagger,  and  offering,  as  liis  only 
and  sufficient  defence,  an  account  of  all  that  had  liap- 
2)ened,  and  the  declaration,  which  gives  its  name  to  the 
play,  that  '-none  below  the  king"  can  be  permitted  to 
stand  between  him  and  the  claims  of  his  honor. 

Few  dramas  in  the  Spanishjanguage  are  more  poet^ 
ical ;  fewer  still,  more  national  in  their  tone. 
^  420  The  character  of  *  Oarcia  is  drawn  with  great 
vigor,  and  with  a  sharply  defined  outline.  That 
of  his  wife  is  equally  well  designed,  but  is  full  of 
gentleness  and  patience.'  Even  the  clown  is  a  more 
than  commonly  happy  specimen  of  the  sort  of  parody 
suitable  to  his  position.  Some  of  the  descriptions,  too, 
are  excellent.  There  is  a  charming  one  of  rustic  life, 
such  as  it  was  fancied  to  be  under  the  most  favorable 
circimistances  in  Spain's  best  days ;  and,  at  the  end  of 
the  second  act,  there  is  a  scene  between  Garcia  and 
the  courtier,  at  the  moment  the  courtier  is  stealthily 
entering  his  wife's  apartment,  in  which  we  have  the 
struggle  between  Spanish  honor  and  Spanish  loyalty 
given  with  a  truth  and  spirit  that  leave  little  to  be 
desired.  In  short,  if  we  set  aside  the  best  plays  of 
Lope  de  Yega  and  Calderon,  it  is  one  of  the  most 
effective  of  the  old  Spanish  theatre. ^"^ 

Roxas  was  well  known  in  France.  Thomas  Corneille 
imitated,  and  almost  translated,  one  of  his  plays ;  and 
as  Scarron,  in  his  "  Jodelet,"  did  the  same  with  "  Where 
there  are  real  Wrongs  there  is  no  Jealous^',"  the  second 
comedy  that  has  kept  its  place  on  the  French  stage  is 
due  to  Spain,  as  the  first  tragedy  and  the  first  comedy 
had  been  before  it." 

i**  "Del  Key   abaxo  Nin^ino"   has  is  no  doubt  who  wrote  it.     It  is,  how- 
been  sometimes  printed  with  the  name  ever,   among  the  Coniedias  Sueltas  of 
of  Calderon,  who  might  well  be  content  Roxas,  and  not  in  his  collected  works, 
to  be  regarded  as  its  author  ;  but  there  ii  T.  Comeille's  play  is  "Don  Ber- 


Chap.  XXV.]  CUBILLO.  495 

Like  many  writers  for  the  Spanish  theatre,  Roxas 
prepared  several  of  his  phiys  in  conjunction  with 
others.  Franchi,  in  his  eulogy  on  Lope  de  Vega,  com- 
plains of  it,  and  says  that  a  drama  thus  compounded 
is  more  like  a  conspiracy  than  a  comedy,  and  that  such 
performances  were,  in  their  different  parts,  necessarily 
unequal  and  dissimilar.  But  this  was  not  the  general 
opinion  of  his  age ;  and  that  the  complaint  is  not 
always  well  founded,  we  know,  not  only  from  the  ex- 
ample of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  but  from  the  suc- 
cess that  has  attended  the  composition  of  many 
dramas  in  France  in  *the  nineteenth  century  *  421 
by  more  than  one  person.  It  should  not  be 
forgotten,  also,  that  in  Spain,  where,  from  the  very 
structure  of  the  national  drama,  the  story  was  of  so 
much  consequence,  and  where  so  many  of  the  char- 
acters had  standing  attributes  assigned  to  them,  such 
joint  partnerships  were  more  easily  carried  through 
with  success  than  they  could  be  on  any  other  stage. 
At  any  rate,  they  were  more  common  there  than  they 
have  ever  been  elsewhere.^^ 

Alvaro  Cubillo,  who  alludes  to  Moreto  as  his  con- 
temporary, and  who  was  perhaps  known  even  earlier 
as  a  successful  dramatist,  said,  in  1654,  that  he  had 
already  written  a  hundred  plays.  But  the  whole  of 
this  great  numl^er,  except  ten  published  by  himself, 
and  a  few  others  that  appeared,  if  we  may  judge  by 

tranddeCigarral,"(Qi;u\Tes,  Pari.s,  1758,  three  reg[i\a.r  jo^-nadas.     In  the  large 

12mo,  Tom.  I.  p.  209,)  and  lii.s  obliga-  collection  of  Comedias  printed  in  the 

tions   are   avowed   in   the   Dedication.  latter  half  of  the  seventeenth  century, 

8carron's    "Jodelet"    (Qiuvres,    Paris,  in   forty-eight   volumes,    there    are,    I 

1752,  12mo,  Tom.  II.  p.  73)  is  a  spirited  think,   about  thirty  such  plays.     Two 

■comedy,  de.sperately  indebted  to  Roxas.  are  by  six  persons  each.     One,  in  honor 

But  Scarron  constantly  borrowed  from  of  the  Marquis  Canete,  is  the  work  of 

the  Spanish  theatre.  nine  different  poets,  but  it  is  not  in  any 

12  Three  persons  were  frequently  era-  collection ;  it  is  printed  separately,  and 

ployed  on  one  drama,  dividing  its  com-  better  than  was  usual,   Madrid,   1G22, 

jjosition  among  them,  according  to  its  4to. 


496  CUBILLO.  [PnuioD  II. 

his  eoiiiplaints,  without  his  permission,  are  now  lost. 
Of  those  he  pubhshed  himself,  '•  The  Thunderbolt  of 
Andalusia,"  in  two  parts,  taken  from  tlie  old  ballads 
about  the  "  Infmtes  de  Lara,"  was  much  admired  in  his 
Hfetime  ;  but  ■•  Marcela's  Dolls,"  a  simple  comedy, 
restinii;  on  the  first  childlike  love  of  a  vouno;  ""irl, 
has  since  quite  supplanted  it.  One  of  his  plays, 
••  El  Seiior  de  Noches  Buenas,"  was  early  printed 
as  Antonio  de  Mendoza's,  but  Cubillo  at  once  made 
good  his  title  to  it;  and  yet,  after  the  death  of  both, 
it  was  inserted  anew  in  Mendoza's  works ;  —  a  strik- 
ing proof  of  the  great  carelessness  long  common  in 
Spain  on  the  subject  of  authorship. 

None  of  Cubillo's  plays  has  high  poetical  merit, 
though  several  of  them  are  pleasant,  easy,  and  nat- 
ural. The  best  is  "  The  Perfect  Wife,"  in  which  the 
gentle  and  faithful  character  of  the  heroine  is  drawn 
Avith  skill,  and  with  a  true  conception  of  what  is  lovely 
in  woman's  nature.  Two  of  his  religious  plays,  on 
the  other  hand,  are  more  than  commonly  extravagant 
and  absurd  ;  one  of  them  —  "  Saint  Michael "  — 
*  422  containing,  in  tlie  first  act,  the  story  *  of  Cain 
and  Abel ;  in  the  second,  that  of  Jonah  ;  and 
in  the  third,  that  of  the  Visigoth  king,  Bamba,  with 
a  sort  of  separate  conclusion  in  the  form  of  a  vision 
of  the  times  of  Charles  the  Fifth  and  his  three  suc- 
cessors.^'^ 

But  the  Spanish  stage,  as  we  advance  in  Calderon's 

^^  The  plays  of  Cubillo  that  I  have  puhlished  as  early  as  l&lij,  and  which 

seen  are,  — ten  in  his  "  Enano  de  las  seems  to  have  been  liked,  and  to  have 

Musas"   (Madiid,    16.04,    4to)  ;  five  in  gone    through    several    editions.       But 

the  Coniedias  Escogidas,  piinted  as  early  none  of  Cubillo's  poetry  is  so  good  as 

as  1660 ;  and  two  or  three  more  .scat-  his  plays.     See  Prologo  and  Dedication 

tered  elsewhere.     The   "  Euano  de  las  to  the  Enano,  and  Montalvan's  li.st  of 

Mu.sa.s "  is  a  collection  of  his  work.s,  wnitei-s  for  the  stage  at  the  end  of  his 

containing  many  ballads,  .sonnets,  etc.,  "Para  Todos."     Cubillo  was  alive  in 

and  an  allegorical  ]>oem  on  "The  Court  1660. 
of  the  Lion,"  which,  Antonio  says,  was 


Chap.  XXV.] 


VAHIO US    DRAMATISTS. 


497 


life,  becomes  more  and  more  crowded  witli  di'amatic 
authors,  all  eager  in  their  struggles  for  popular  favor. 
One  of  them  was  Francisco  de  Leyba,  or  Leira,  whose 
"  Mutius  Scffivohi "  is  an  absurdly  constructed  and  wild 
historical  play  ;  while,  on  the  contrary,  his  "  Honor  the 
First  Thing  "  and  "  The  Lady  President"  are  pleasant 
comedies,  enlivened  with  short  stories  and  apologues, 
which  he  wrote  with  naturalness  and  point.^^  Another 
dramatist  was  Cancer  y  Velasco,  whose  poems  are  bet- 
ter known  than  his  plays,  and  whose  "Muerte  de  Bal- 
dovinos"  runs  more  into  caricature  and  broad  farce 
than  was  commonly  tolerated  in  the  court  theatre.^^ 
And  yet  others  were  Antonio  Enriquez  Gomez,  son  of 
a  Portuguese  Jew,  wdio  wrote  twenty-two  plays, 
but  inserted  in  his  "  Moral  Evenings  with  *  the  *  423 
Muses  "^^  only  four,  all  of  little  value,  except 


1*  There  are  a  few  of  Leyba's  plays  in 
a  collection  published  at  Madrid,  1826- 
1834,  and  in  the  Comedias  Escogidas, 
and  I  possess  a  few  of  them  in  pam- 
phlets. But  I  do  not  know  how  many 
he  wrote,  and  I  have  no  notices  of  his 
life.  He  is  sometimes  called  Antonio 
de  Leyba  ;  unless,  indeed,  there  were 
two  of  the  same  surname. 

1^  Obras  de  Don  Geronimo  Cancer  y 
Velasco,  M  idrid,  1761,  4to.  The  first 
edition  is  of  16.51,  and  Antonio  sets  his 
death  at  1655.  In  a  broadside  which 
I  pos.sess,  issued  24th  May,  1781,  by 
the  Inquisition  at  Seville,  the  "Muerte 
de  Baldo vinos"  is  prohibited  "por  es- 
candalosa  y  obscena,"  and  in  the  Index 
of  1790,  this  drama,  the  "  Vandolero 
de  Flandes,"  and  finally  the  "Obras  de 
Cancer,"  are  all,  in  separate  articles, 
put  under  censure.  A  play,  however, 
which  he  wrote  in  conjunction  with 
Pedro  Rosete  and  Antonio  Martinez, 
Avas  evidentl)'-  intended  to  conciliate  the 
Church,  and  well  calculated  for  its  pur- 
pose. It  is  called  "El  Mcjor  Ilepresen- 
tante  San  Gines,"  and  is  found  in  Tom. 
XXIX.,  1668,  of  the  Comedias  Escogi- 
das, (slightly  perhaps  indebted  to  Lope's 
"  Fingido  Verdadero,") — San  Gines 
iDeing  a  Roman  actor,  converted  to 
VOL.   II.  32 


Christianity,  and  undergoing  martjT- 
dom  in  the  presence  of  the  spectators 
in  consequence  of  being  called  on  to  act 
a  play  written  by  Polycarp,  which  was 
ingeniously  constructed  so  as  to  defend 
the  Christians.  The  tradition  is  absurd 
enough  certainly,  but  the  drama  may 
be  read  with  interest  throughout,  and 
parts  of  it  with  jdeasure.  It  has  a  love- 
intrigue  brought  in  with  skill.  Cancer, 
I  believe,  wrote  plays  without  assist- 
ance only  once  or  twice.  Certainly, 
twelve  written  in  conjunction  with  Mo- 
reto,  Matos  Fragoso,  and  others,  are  all 
by  him  that  are  found  in  the  Comedias 
Escogidas.  Five  entremeses  by  him, 
printed  in  1659,  are  in  a  volume  in  the 
Bibliothequede  1' Arsenal  at  Paris,  which 
contains  others  by  Pedro  Rosete,  Luis 
Velez,  Andres  Gil  Enriquez,  and  Anto- 
nio Soils. 

1®  "Academias  Morales  de  las  Mu- 
sa.s,"  Madrid,  4to,  1660  ;  but  my  copy 
was  printed  at  Barcelona,  1704,  4to. 
See,  too,  in  the  Prologo"  to  his  "San- 
son," Ruan,  1656,  the  titles  of  his 
twenty-two  plays.  He  wrote  otluu- 
works,  "  Politica  Angelica,"  Rohan, 
1647;  "Luis  Dado  de  Dios,"  Paris, 
1645,  etc. 


408 


ZARATE. 


[Pehioii  II. 


"  The  Duticft  of  Honor  "  ;  —  Antonio  Sigler  de  Huerta, 
who  wrote  "No  Good  to  Ourselves  without  Harm  to 
Somebody  Else  " ;  —  tmd  Zabaleta,  who,  though  he 
made  a  satirical  and  harsh  attack  upon  the  theatre, 
could  not  refuse  himself  the  indulgence  of  writing  for 
it." 

If  we  now  turn  from  these  to  a  few  whose  success 
^vas  more  strongly  marked,  none  presents  himself 
earlier  than  Fernando  de  Zarate,  a  poet  who  was 
much  misled  by  the  bad  taste  of  his  time,  though 
his  talent  was  such  that  he  ought  to  have  resisted 
it.  Thus  this  eminently  Spanish  folh'  is  very  ob- 
vious in  his  best  plays,  as,  for  instance,  in  his  other- 
wise good  drama,  "  He  that  talks  Most  does  Least," 
and  even  in  his  "  Presumptuous  and  Beautiful," 
which  has  continued  to  be  acted  down  to  our  own 
days.^^ 


^'  "  Flor  lie  las  Mcjoros  Comedias," 
Madnd,  ltJ52,  4to.  P>apna,  llijos  de 
Madrid,  Tom.  III.  p.  227.  A  consid- 
erable number  of  the  ]>lays  of  Zabaleta 
may  be  seen  in  the  forty-eight  volumes 
of  the  Comedias  Escogidas,  1652,  etc. 
One  of  them,  "El  Hijo  de  Marco  Au- 
relio,"  on  the  subject  of  the  Emperor 
Commodns,  was  acted  in  1644,  and,  as 
the  author  tells  us,  being  received  with 
little  favor,  and  complaints  being  made 
tliat  it  was  not  founded  in  truth,  he 
began  at  once  a  life  of  that  Em])eror, 
which  he  calls  a  translation  from  Hero- 
dian,  but  which  has  claims  neither  to 
fidelity  in  its  version,  nor  to  jiurity  in 
its  style.  It  remained  long  unfinished, 
until  one  morning  in  1664,  waking  u]) 
and  finding  himself  struck  entindy 
blind,  he  began,  "as  on  an  elevation," 
to  look  round  for  some  occupation  suited 
to  his  solitude  and  aHlietion.  .His  ])lay 
had  been  ]»rinted  in  1658,  in  the  tenth 
V(jlume  of  tlie  Comedias  Escogidas,  and 
he  now  com]ileted  the  work  that  w;i.s  to 
justify  it,  and  jiublished  it  in  1666,  an- 
nouncing himself  on  the  title-page  as  a 
royal  chronicler.  But  it  failed,  as  his 
drama  had  failed  Viefore  it.  In  the 
"  Vcxumen    ile    Ingeuios "    of   Cancer, 


where  the  failure  of  another  of  Zaba- 
leta's  plays  is  noticed,  (Obras  de  Can- 
cer, Sladrid,  1761,  4to,  p.  Ill,)  a  pun- 
ning epigram  is  inserted  on  his  personal 
ugliness,  the  amount  of  which  is,  that, 
though  his  jday  was  dear  at  the  price 
paid  for  a  ticket,  his  face  would  rej^ay 
the  loss  to  those  who  should  look  on  it. 
1**  The  plays  of  Zarate  are,  I  believe, 
easiest  found  in  the  Comedias  Escogi- 
das, where  twenty-three  or  more  of 
them  occur  ;  —  the  earliest  in  Tom. 
XIV.,  1661  ;  and  "Quien  habla  mas 
obra  menos"  in  Tom.  XLIV.  In  the 
Index  Expurgatorius  of  1790,  p.  288, 
it  is  intmiatcd  that  Fernando  de  Zarate 
is  the  .same  person  with  Antonio  En- 
ricjuez  Gomez  ;  —  a  mistake  founded, 
](robabiy,  on  the  circumstance,  that  a 
play  of  Enriquez  Gomez,  who  was  of 
.lewish  descent,  was  printed  with  the- 
name  of  Zarate  attached  to  it,  as  other? 
of  his  plays  were  printed  with  the  name 
of  Calderon.  Amador  de  los  Kios,  Ju- 
dios  de  Esjiaila,  Madrid,  1848,  8vo,  p. 
575.  l^i'sides,  Schack  found  an  nnfo- 
(jraph  ])lay  of  Zarate  in  Duran's  collec- 
tion, (Nachtriige,  p.  61,)  proWng,  of 
course,  tliat  Zarate  was  a  real  person  : 
and  the  play  printed  as  Zarate's,  which 


f'TiAr.   XXY.]  BABRIOS. DIAMANTE.  499 

*'  Another  of  tlio  writers  for  the  theatre  at  *  424 
this  time  was  Miguel  de  Barrios,  one  of  those 
inihappy  cliiUlren  of  Israel,  who,  under  the  terrors  of 
the  Inquisition,  concealed  their  religion,  and  suffered 
some  of  the  worst  penalties  of  unbelief  from  the  jeal- 
ous intolerance  which  everywhere  watched  them.  His 
family  was  Portuguese,  but  he  himself  was  born  in 
Spain,  and  served  long  in  the  Spanish  armies.  At  last, 
however,  when  he  w^as  in  Flanders,  the  temptations 
to  a  peaceful  conscience  were  too  strong  for  him.  He 
escaped  to  Amsterdam,  and  died  there  in  the  open 
profession  of  the  faith  of  his  fathers,  about  the  year 
1699.  His  plays  were  printed  as  early  as  1665,  but 
the  only  one  worth  notice  is  "  The  Spaniard  in  Oran  " ; 
longer  than  it  should  be,  but  not  without  merit.^^ 

Diamante  was  among  those  who  wrote  dramas  espe- 
cially accommodated  to  the  popular  taste,  while  Cal- 
deron  was  still  at  the  height  of  his  reputation.  Their 
number  is  considerable.  Two  volumes  were  collected 
hy  him  and  published  in  1670  and  1674,  and  yet  many 
others  still  remain  in  scattered  pamphlets  and  in  manu- 
script.^'^    They  are   in  all   the    forms,  and  in   all  the 

has  caused,  I  suppose,  this  confusion,  this  author,  who,  being  a  '  New  Chris- 
is  "  Lo  que  obligan  los  Zelos,"  and  is  tian,'  was  happy  enough  to  get  into  a 
distinctly  claimed  as  his  own  by  En-  country  where  he  could  profess  himself 
riquez  Gomez  in  the  Prologo  to  his  a  Jew."  There  is  a  long  notice  of  him 
"Sanson,"  which,  of  course,  he  would  in  Barbosa,  Biblioteca  Lusitana,  Tom. 
not  have  done  if  Zarate  were  merely  his  III.  p.  464,  and  a  still  longer  one  in 
own  pseudonyme.  All  that  is  said,  to  Amador  de  los  Eios,  Judios  de  Espana, 
])rove  Zarate  and  Enricpiez  Gomez  to  be  Madrid,  1848,  pp.  608,  etc. 
the  same  person,  by  Castro,  in  the  Bib-  -'  The  "  Comedias  de  Diamante  "  are 
lioteca  of  Rivadeneyra,  (Tom.  XVII.  in  two  volumes,  4to,  ]\Iadrid,  1670  and 
pp.  Ixxxix,  xc,)  goes,  therefore,  for  1674  ;  but  in  the  first  volume  eight 
nothing.  plays  are  paged  together,  and  for  the 
1^  His  "Coro  de  las  Musas,"  at  the  four  others  there  is  a  separate  paging; 
end  of  which  his  plays  are  commonly  though,  as  the  whole  twelve  are  recog- 
added  separately,  was  printed  at  Brus-  nized  in  the  Tassa  and  in  the  table  of 
sels  in  1665,  4to,  and  in  1672.  In  my  contents,  they  are  no  doubt  all  his. 
copy,  which  is  of  the  first  edition,  and  There  is  a  MS.  play  of  his  in  the  col- 
which  once  belonged  to  ilr.  Southey,  lection  of  the  Duke  of  Ossuna,  dated 
is  the  following  characteristic  note  in  May  25,  1656,  and  he  seems  to  have 
his  handwriting:  "Among  the  Lans-  been  alive  in  1684.  He  w;is  born  at 
downe  MSS.  is  a  volume  of  poems  by  Madrid  in  16-26. 


-500  DIAMANTE.  [Peuiod  II. 

varieties  of  tone,  then  in  favor.  Some  of  them,  like 
''  Santa  Teresa,"  are  rehgioiis.  Others  are  historical, 
like  "  Mary  Stuart."  Others  are  taken  from  the  old 
national  traditions,  like  "  The  Siege  of  Zamora,"  which 
is  on  the  same  subject  with  the  second  part  of  Guillen 

de  Castro's  "  Cid,"  but  much  less  poetical.  0th- 
*  42-3    ers  are   *  zarzuelas,  or  dramas  chiefly  sung,  of 

wliich  the  best  specimen  by  Diamante  is  his 
"  Alpheus  and  Arethusa,"  prepared  with  an  amus- 
ing loa  in  honor  of  the  Constable  of  Castile.  There 
are  more  in  the  style  of  the  capa  y  espaJa  than  in  any 
other.  But  none  of  them  has  au}^  marked  merit.  The 
one  that  has  attracted  most  attention,  out  of  Spain,  is 
"^^  The  Son  honoring  his  Father"  ;  a  pla}^  on  the  quar- 
rel of  the  Cid  with  Count  Lozano,  which,  from  a 
mistake  of  Voltaire,  was  lono-  thought  to  have  been 
the  model  of  Corneille's  "  Cid,"  while  in  fact  the  re- 
verse is  true,  since  Diamante's  plaj'  was  produced 
above  twenty  ^-ears  after  the  great  French  tragedy, 
and  is  deeply  indebted  to  it.-^  Like  most  of  the  dram- 
atists of  his  time,  Diamante  was  a  follower  of  Calde- 
ron,  and  inclined  to  the  more  romantic  side  of  his 
character  and  school ;  and,  like  so  many  Spanish  poets 
of  all  times,  he  finished  his  career  in  unnoticed  obscu- 
rity. Of  the  precise  period  of  his  death  no  notice  has 
been  found,  but  it  was  probably  near  the  end  of  the 
century. 

Passing  over  such  writers  of  plays  as  Monteser,  Ge- 

21  The  "Cid  "  of  Corneille  dates  from  mante,  and  with  a  siniilartitle,  —  "  Hon- 

1636,  and  Diamante's  "  Honrador  d(;  su  rador  dc  sus  Hijas,"  —  is  found  in  tlie 

Padre  "  is  found  earliest  in  the  ck'ventli  Comedias    Escogidas,     Tom.     XXIII., 

volume  of  the  Comedias  Escogidas,  11-  1662.     Its   author   is   Francisco   Polo, 

censed  1658.     Indeed,  it  may  well  he  of  whom  I  know  only  that  he  wrote 

douhted  whether  Diamante  was  a  writer  this  diama,  whose  merit  is  very  small, 

for  the  stage  so  early  as  1636  ;  for  I  find  and  whose  subject  is  the  marriage  of 

no  play  of  his  printed  liefore  16.57.     An-  the   daught(-rs   of    the    Cid    with    the 

other- play  on  the  suhject  of  the  Cid,  Counts  of  Cairion,  and  their  sul)sequent 

paitlv   iinitMtcil   from   tliis  one  of  Dia-  ill-treatment  by  thek  husbands,  etc. 


chai-.  XXV.]  noz.  501 

ronymo  de  Cuellar,  and  not  a  lew  others,  who  floari.><hed 
in  the  latter  half  of  the  seventeenth  century,  we  come 
to  a  pleasant  comedy  entitled  "  The  Punishment  of 
Avarice,"  written  by  Juan  de  la  IIoz,  a  native  of  Ma- 
drid, who  was  made  a  knight  of  Santiago  in  165o,  and 
Regidor  of  Burgos  in  1657,  after  which  he  rose  to  good 
offices  about  the  court,  and  was  living  there  as  late  as 
1709.  How  many  plays  he  wrote,  we  are  not  told ; 
but  the  onl}^  one  now  remembered  is  "  The  Punish- 
ment of  Avarice."  It  is  founded  on  the  third  tale  of 
Maria  de  Zayas,  which  bears  the  same  name,  and  from 
which  its  general  outline  and  all  the  principal  inci- 
dents are  taken.^  But  the  miser's  character  is 
*  much  more  fullj^  and  poetically  drawn  in  the  *  426 
drama  than  it  is  in  the  story.  Indeed,  the  play 
is  one  of  the  best  specimens  of  character-drawing  on 
the  Spanish  stage,  and  may,  in  man}"  respects,  bear  a 
comparison  with  the  "  Aulularia "  of  Plautus,  and  the 
"  Avare  "  of  Moliere. 

The  sketch  of  the  miser  by  one  of  his  acquaintance 
in  the  first  act,  ending  wdth  "  He  it  was  who  first  weak- 
ened water,"  is  excellent ;  and,  even  to  the  last  scene, 
where  he  goes  to  a  conjurer  to  recover  his  lost  monej", 
the  character  is  consistently  maintained  and  well  de- 
veloped.^'^    He  is  a  miser  throughout,  and,  what  is  more, 

22  Huerta,  who  reprints  the  "Casti-  found  an  autograph  play  by  him  dated 

go  de  la  Miseiia"  in  the  first  volume  in  1708.     If  this  were  the  case,   Hoz 

of  his  "Teatro  He.spanol,"  expresses  a  must  have  lived  to  a  good  old  age. 
doubt  as  to  who  is  the  inventor  of  the  '-3  fjjg  gj.g^  Qf  these  scenes  is  taken, 

story,    Hoz  or  Maria  de   Zayas.      But  in  a  good  degi'ee,  from  the  "Xovelas," 

there  is  no  ipiestion  about  the  matter.  ed.  1637,  p.  86  ;  but  the  scene  with  the 

The  "Novelas"  were  printed  at  Zara-  astrologer  is  wholly  the  poet's  own,  and 

goza,  1637,  4to,  and  their  Ajrrobacion  parts  of  it  are  worthy  of  Ben  Jonson. 

is  dated  in  1635.      See,  also,   Baena's  It  should  be  added,  however,  that  the 

"Hijos  de  Madrid,"  Tom.  III.  p.  271.  third  act  of  the  play  is  technically  .su- 

In   the    Prologo   to   Candamo's   plays,  i)erfluous,  as  the  action  really  ends  with 

{Madrid,  Tom.   I.,   1722,)  Hoz  is  said  the  second.      But  we  could  not  afford 

to  have  written  the  third  act  of  Cauda-  to  part  with  it,  so  full  is  it  of  sjiirit  and 

mo's  "San  Bernardo,"  left  unfinished  humor.     The  tale  of  Jlan'a  de  Zayas  is 

at  its  author's  death  in  1704,  and  Schack  plundered  after  his  fashion  —  that  is, 


502  MATOS    FRAGOSO.  [Period  II. 

he  is  a  Spanish  miser.  The  moral  is  better  in  the 
prose  tale,  as  the  hiirigante,  who  cheats  him  into  a  mar- 
riag-e  with  herself,  is  there  made  a  victim  of  her  crimes 
no  less  than  he  is ;  while  in  the  drama  she  profits  b}' 
them,  and  comes  off  with  success  at  last,  —  a  strange 
jDcrversion  of  the  original  story,  for  which  it  is  not 
easy  to  give  a  good  reason.  But  in  poetical  merit 
there  is  no  comparison  between  the  two. 

Juan  de  Matos  Fragoso,  a  Portuguese,  who  lived  in 
Madrid  at  the  same  time  with  Diamante  and  Hoz,  and 
died  in  1692,  enjoyed  quite  as  much  reputation  with 
the  public  as  they  did,  though  he  often  writes  in  the 
very  bad  taste  of  the  age.  But  he  never  printed  more 
than  one  volume  of  his  dramas,  so  that  they  are  now 
to  be  sought  chiefly  in  separate  pamphlets,  and  in  col- 
lections made  for  other  purposes  than  the  claims  of  the 
individual  authors  found  in  them.  Those  which  are 
most  known  are  his  "  Mistaken  Experiment," 
*  427  founded  on  *  the  "  Impertinent  Curiosity "  of 
the  first  part  of  Don  Quixote  ;  his  ''  Fortune 
through  Contempt,"  a  better-managed  dramatic  fiction ; 
and  his  "  Wise  Man  in  Retirement  and  Peasant  by  his 
own  Fireside,"  which  is  common]  \'  accounted  the  best 
of  his  works."'* 

"  The  Captive  Redeemer,"  however,  in  which  he  was 
assisted  by  another  well-known  author  of  his  time,  Se- 
bastian de  Villaviciosa,  is  on  many  accounts  more  in- 
teresting and  attractive.     It  is,  he  says,  a  true  story. 

mutilated  ami  aljiidged  —  by  Scarron,  Coniedias,  ^arag09a,  1647,  is  published 

in   his   "Chatiment  de  I'Avarice"; —  in  Vol.  XXXIX.  of  the  Coniedias  Esco- 

Xouvelles  Tragicoiniques,   Paris,   1752,  gidas  as  the  work  of  Matos,  and  from 

12mo,  Tom.  I.  pp.  16.^-205.  that  copied    iir.'^t  into  Garcia  Suelto's 

-*  Tlii.s  Jilay,  it  .should  lie  noted,   is  collection,  and  then  into  Ochoa's.      Ma- 

niuch  indebted  to  Lope's  "  Villano  en  tos  Fragoso  must  have  been  a  writer  for 

su  Rincon  "  ;  and  it  may  be  well  also  to  the  stage  fifty-nine  years  at  least,   for 

add,  that  the  "De.sprecio  Agradecido,"  Schack  found  a  MS.  of  one  of  his  i)laya 

the  second  play  in  Parte  XXV.  of  Lope's  dated  1634  (Xachtrage,  p.  92). 


CiiAi'.   XXV.]  MATOS    FIIAGOSO.  503 

It  is  certainly  a  lieart-rending  one,  founded  on  an  inci- 
dent not  nncomnion  during  the  barl)arou.s  wars  carried 
on  between  the  Christians  in  Spain  and  tlie  Moors  in 
Africa,  —  relics  of  the  fierce  hatreds  of  a  thousand 
3'ears.^  A  Spanish  lady  is  carried  into  captivity  by  a 
marauding  party,  who  hmd  on  the  coast  for  plunder,, 
and  instantly  escape  with  their  prey.  Her  lover,  ia 
despair,  follows  her,  and  the  drama  consists  of  their 
adventures  till  both  are  found  and  released.  Mingled 
with  this  sad  story,  there  is  a  sort  of  underplot,  whicli 
gives  its  name  to  the  piece,  and  is  very  characteristic 
of  the  state  of  the  theatre  and  the  demands  of  the 
public,  or  at  least  of  the  Church.  A  large  bronze 
statue  of  the  Saviour  is  discovered  to  be  in  the  hands 
of  the  infidels.  The  captive  Christians  immediately 
offer  the  money,  sent  as  the  price  of  their  own  free- 
dom, to  rescue  it  from  such  sacrilege  ;  and,  at  last,  the 
Moors  agree  to  give  it  up  for  its  weight  in  gold  ;  but 
when  the  value  of  the  thirty  pieces  of  silver,  originally 
paid  for  the  person  of  the  Saviour  himself,  has 
been  counted  into  one  scale,  it  *  is  found  to  *  428 
outweigh  the  massive  statue  in  the  other,  and 
enough  is  still  left  to  purchase  the  freedom  of  the  cap- 
tives, who,  in  offering  their  ransoms,  had  in  fact,  as 
they  supposed,  offered  their  own  lives.  With  this  tri- 
umphant miracle  the  piece  ends.  Like  the  other 
dramas  of  Fragoso,  it  is  written  in  a  great  variety  of 

^^  I   liavc    already    noticed    plays   of  semblance  to  the  one  syioken  of  in  the 

Lope  and  (Jervantes  that  set  forth  the  text.       It   is   called    "  Kl   Azote   de   sii 

cruel  coiidition  of  Christian  Spaniards  Patria,"    (('oniedias    Eseoj^idas,    Tom. 

in  Algiers,   and  must  hereafter  notice  XXXIV.,  1670,)  and  is  filled  with  the 

the  great  influence  this  state  of  things  cruelties  of  a  Valencian  renegade,  who 

had  on  Spanish  romantic  fiction.      But  seems  to  have  been   an  liistoi'ical  })er- 

it   should   be   remembered    here,    that  sonage.     The  popular  ballads  bear  tes- 

many  dramas  were  founded  on  it,  be-  timony  to   the   same   state  of  things, 

sides  those  I  have  had  occasion  to  men-  Duran,    Komancero  General,    Tom.    I. 

tion.     One  of  the  :nost  striking  is  by  pp.  xiv  and  136  - 150. 
Moreto,  which  has  some  points  of  re- 


-504  SOLis.  [Pkriod  II. 

measures,  wliicli  are  managed  with  skill,  and  are  full 
of  sweetness.^*' 

The  last  of  the  good  writers  for  the  Spanish  stage 
with  its  old  attributes  is  Antonio  de  Solis,  the  historian 
of  Mexico.  He  was  born  on  the  18th  of  July,  1610,  in 
Alcala  de  Henares,  and  completed  his  studies  at  the 
University  of  Salamanca,  where,  when  only  seventeen 
years  old,  he  wrote  a  drama.  Five  years  later  he  had 
given  to  the  theatre  his  "  Gitanilla."  or  '*•  The  Little 
Gypsy  Girl,"  founded  on  the  storj-  of  Cervantes,  or 
rather  on  a  play  of  Montalvan  borrowed  from  that 
.story  ;  —  a  graceful  fiction,  which  has  been  constantly 
reproduced,  in  one  shape  or  another,  ever  since  it  first 
appeared  from  the  hand  of  the  great  master.  ''  One 
Fool  makes  a  Hundred  "  —  a  pleasant  figuron  play  of 
Solis,  which  was  soon  afterwards  acted  before  the  court 
—  has  less  merit,  and  is  somewhat  indebted  to  the 
"  Don  Diego  "  of  Moreto.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  his 
"  Love  a  la  Mode,"  which  is  all  his  o^^^l,  is  among  the 
good  plays  of  the  Spanish  stage,  and  furnished  materials 
for  one  of  the  best  of  Thomas  Corneille's. 

In  1G42,  Solis  prepared,  for  a  festival  at  Pamplona,  — 
on  occasion  of  the  birth  of  a  son  to  the  Viceroy  of  Na- 
varre, whom  Solis  was  then  serving  as  secre- 
429    tary, —  a  dramatic  *  entertainment  on  the  story 


* 


'■**•  In  the  CoiiieJias  Escogidas,  there  the  best  of  them.      Villa viciosa  wrote- 

are  at  least   twenty-five  plays  written  a  part  of  "Solo  el  Piadoso  es  lui  Hijo," 

wholly  or  in  part  V)y  Mates,  the  earliest  of    "El    Letrado   del   Cielo,"    of    "El 

of  whieh  is  in  Toili.  V.,   IfiftS.     P'rom  Kedentor  Cautivo,"  etc.     The  apologue 

the  eoiielusion  of  his  "  Poeos  bastan  si  of  the  barber,  in  the  second  act  of  the 

-son  Buenos,"   (Tom.    XXXIV.,   1670,)  la.st,    is,    I   think,    taken   from  one  of 

and,  indeed,  from  the  local  descri])tions  Leyba's  plays  ;  but  I  have  it  not  now 

in  other  parts  of  it.   there  can  be  no  by  me  to  lefer  to,  and  such  things  weie 

■doubt  that  Matos  Fiugoso  was  at  one  too  common  at  the  time  on  a  much 

time  in  Italy,  and  verv  little  that  this  larger  scale  to  deserve  notice,  except  as 

drama  was  written  at  Naples,  and  acted  incidental  illustrations  of  a  well-knov.  n 

before  the  Spanish  Viceroy  there.     One  state  of  literary  morals  in  Spain.      Fra- 

■volunie  of  the  plays  of  Matos  Fi-agoso,  goso's  life  is  in  Barbosa,  Tom.  II.  pp. 

•called  the  first,  was  |)rinted  at  Mailrid,  G9.')-697.      I  have  eighteen  of  his  yday> 

1658,  4to.     Otiicr  .sejiarati'  jdays  are  in  in  separate  jiamphlets,  besides  those  in 

iJuelto's  collection,    but   not,    1   think,  the  Comedias  Escogidas. 


Chaj'.  XXV.  I  SOLIS.  5(<?j 

of  Orplieu.s  and  Eurydice,  in  wliicli  tlie  tone  of  the 
Spanish  national  theatre  is  fantastically  confounded 
with  the  genius  of  the  old  Grecian  mythology,  even 
more  than  was  connnon  in  similar  cases  ;  but  the  whole 
ends,  quite  contrary  to  all  poetical  tradition,  by  the 
rescue  of  Eurydice  from  the  infernal  regions,  and  an 
intimation  that  a  second  part  would  follow,  whose  con- 
clusion would  be  tragical ;  —  a  promise  which,  like  so 
many  others  of  the  same  sort  in  Spanish  literature,  was 
never  fulfilled. 

As  his  reputation  increased,  Soils  was  made  one  of 
the  royal  secretaries,  and,  while  acting  in  this  capacij:y, 
wrote  an  allegorical  drama,  partly  resembling  a  moral- 
ity of  the  elder  period,  and  partly  a  modern  masque,, 
in  honor  of  the  birth  of  one  of  the  princes,  which  was 
acted  in  the  palace  of  the  Buen  Retiro.  The  title  of 
this  wild,  but  not  unpoetical  opera  is  "  Triumphs  of 
Love  and  Fortune  ";  and  Diana  and  Endymion,  Psyche 
and  Venus,  Happiness  and  Adversity,  are  among  its 
dramatic  personages ;  though  a  tone  of  honor  and  gal- 
lantry is  as  consistently  maintained  in  it,  as  if  its  scene 
were  laid  at  Madrid,  and  its  characters  taken  from  the 
audience  that  witnessed  the  performance.  It  is  the 
more  curious,  however,  from  the  circumstance,  that  the 
ha^  the  entretneses,  and  the  sa/pieie,  with  which  it  was 
originally  accompanied,  are  still  attached  to  it,  all 
'written  by  Soils  himself.^^ 

In  this  way  he  continued,  during  the  greater  part  of 
his  life,  one  of  the  favored  writers  for  the  private  the- 
atre of  the  king  and  the  public  theatres  of  the  capital ; 
the  dramas  he  produced  being  almost  uniformly  marked 

2^  The   "  Triunfos  de  Amor   y  For-  "  Tlirce  Spanish  Plays  "  whose  trausla- 

tniia"   appeared   as   early  as  1660,  in  tioii    is    attributed    to    Lord    Holland. 

Tom.  XIII.  of  the  Comedias  Escogidas.  Ante,  p.  393,  note  5. 
"  Un  Bobo  hace  ciento"  is  one  of  the 


500  CAXDAMO.  [PF.Kion  II. 

by  a  skilful  complication  of  their  plots,  which  were  not 
always  original ;  by  a  somewhat  broad  humor ;  and  Ijy 
a  purity  of  style  and  harmony  of  versification  very 
rare  in  his  time.  But  at  last,  like  man}'  other  Spanish 
poets,  he  began  to  think  such  occupations  sinful ;  and, 
after  much  deliberation,  he  resolved  on  a  life  of  re- 
ligious retirement,  and  submitted  to  the  tonsure. 
*  430  From  this  time  he  *  renounced  the  theatre.  He 
even  refused  to  write  autos  sncramcntales,  when 
lie  was  applied  to,  in  the  hope  that  he  might  be  willing 
to  become  a  successor  to  the  fiime  and  fortunes  of  his 
great  master ;  and,  giving  up  his  mind  to  devout  medi- 
tation and  historical  studies,  seems  to  have  lived  con- 
tentedly, though  in  seclusion  and  poverty,  till  his 
death,  which  happened  in  1686.  A  volume  of  his 
minor  poems,  published  afterwards,  which  are  in  all 
the  forms  then  fashionable,  has  little  value,  except  in 
a  few  short  dramatic  entertainments,  several  of  which 
are  characteristic  and  amusino-.-*^ 

Later  than  Soils,  but  still  partly  his  contemporary, 
was  Francisco  Banzes  Candamo.  He  was  a  gentleman 
of  ancient  family,  and  was  born  in  1662,  in  Asturias, — 
that  true  soil  of  the  old  Spanish  cavaliers.  His  educa- 
tion was  careful,  if  not  wise  ;  and  he  was  early  sent  to 
court,  where  he  received,  first  a  pension,  and  afterwards 
several  important  offices   in  the   financial  administra- 

2*  Tlie    "  Varias   Poesias  "    of    Solis  and  in  Victor  Hugo's  "  Notre  Dame  dt- 

were  edited  by  Juan  de  Goyencche,  who  Paris  "  ;    besides  which  certain  resem- 

prefixed  to  them  an  ill-written  life  of  blances  to  it  in  the  "Spanish  Student "' 

their  author,  and    ijublislied   them   at  of  Professor  Longfellow  are  noticed  by 

Madrid,  1692  (4to)  ;  but  there  are  also  the  author.     Tobin,  the  author  of  tht- 

editions  of  1 71(5  and  17o2.     His  Come-  "Honey  Moon,"   who  was  a  lover  of 

dias  were  first  printed  in  Madriil,  1681,  Spanish  literature,  made  an  analysis  of 

a.s  Tom.  XL VI  I.  of  the  Comedias  Es-  this  play  of  Solis,  intending  to  adapt  it 

cogidas.     Thti  "  Oitanilla,"  of  which  I  to   the    English   stage.      But   he   died 

liave  said  that  it  has  been  occa-sionally  young  in  1804,  and  left  this,  like  otlier 

reproduced   from   Cervantes,    is   to    be  literary  i)rqjects,  only  in  outline.     Sec 

found  in  the  "Spaiush  Gypsj'"  of  Row-  his  M(^nii)irs  by  Miss  Benger,  8vo,  Loii- 

ley  and  Mithlli'ton  ;  in  tin'  "  Preciosa,"  don,    1820,   pp.   107,    171, — a  graceful 

a  pleasant  German  |>lay  by  P.  A.  Wollf  ;  tribute  of  woman's  love. 


Chap.  XXY.]  CANDAMO.  507 

tion,  whose  duties,  it  is  said,  he  fulfilled  with  good 
faith  and  efficiency.  But  at  last  the  favor  of  the  court 
deserted  him ;  and  he  died  in  1704,  under  circum- 
stances of  so  much  wretchedness,  that  he  was  buried  at 
the  charge  of  a  religious  society  in  the  place  to  which 
he  had  been  sent  in  disgrace. 

His  plays,  or  rather  two  volumes  of  them,  were 
printed  in  1722  ;  but  in  relation  to  his  other  poems,  a 
large  mass  of  which  he  left  to  the  Duke  of  Alva,  we 
only  know,  that,  long  after  their  author's  death,  a 
bundle  of  them  was  sold  for  a  few  pence,  and  that 
an  inconsiderable  collection  of  such  of  them  as 
could  be  picked  up  from  different  sources  *was  *431 
printed  in  a  small  volume  in  1729.^^  Of  his 
plays,  those  which  he  most  valued  are  on  historical 
subjects,^*^  such  as  "The  Recovery  of  Breda"  and  "For 
his  King  and  his  Lady  "  ;  but  the  most  successful  was, 
no  doubt,  his  "  Esclavo  en  Grillos  de  Oro."  He  wrote 
for  the  theatre,  however,  in  otlier  forms,  and  several  of 
his  dramas  are  curious,  from  the  circumstance  that  they 
are  tricked  out  with  the  has  and  eutrcmeses  which  served 
originally  to  render  them  more  attractive  to  the  mul- 
titude. Nearly  all  his  plots  are  ingenious,  and,  though 
involved,  are  more  regular  in  their  structure  than  was 

29  Candamo's  plays,  entitled  "Poe-  an  epic  on  the  expedition  of  Charles  V. 
sias  Comieas,  Obras  Postumas,"  were  against  Tunis ;  wnie  cantos  ha\'ing  been 
printed  at  Madrid,  in  1722,  in  2  vols.,  among  the  papers  left  by  its  author  to 
4to.  His  miscellaneous  poems,  "Poe-  the  Duke  of  Alva.  The  life  of  Canda- 
sias  Lp-icas,"  were  published  in  Madrid,  mo,  prefixed  to  the  whole,  is  very  poor- 
in  18mo,  but  without  a  date  on  the  ly  written.  Huerta  (Teatro,  Parte  III. 
title-page,  while  the  Dedication  is  of  Tom.  I.  p.  196)  says  he  himself  bouglit 
1729,  the  Licencms  of  1720,  and  the  a  large  mass  of  Candamo's  poetry,  in- 
Fe  de  Errafas,  which  ought  to  be  the  chiding  si.r  cantos  of  this  epic,  for  two 
latest  of  all,  is  of  1710.  This,  however,  rials;  no  doubt,  a  part  of  the  raanu- 
is  a  specimen  of  the  confusion  of  such  scripts  left  to  the  Duke.  He  puts  Can- 
matters  in  Spanish  books  ;  a  confusion  damo's  death,  8th  of  September,  1709. 
which,  in  the  present  instance,  is  carried  The  date  in  the  text  is  from  the  ])oor 
into  the  contents  of  the  volume  itself,  Life  prefixed  to  his  Obras  Liricas,  and 
the  whole  of  which  is  entitled  "Poesias  is,  I  think,  right. 

Lyricas,"  though  it  contains  idyls,  epis-  ^"^  He  boasts  of  them  in  the  opening 

ties,  ballads,  and  part  of  three  cantos  of  of  his  "Cesar  Africauo." 


508  ZARZUELAS.  [Period  II. 

common  at  the  time.  But  liis  style  is  swollen  and  pre- 
sumptuous, and  there  is,  notwithstanding  their  inge- 
nuity, a  want  of  life  and  movement  hi  nK)st  of  his 
plays  that  prevented  them  from  being  efieetive  on 
the  stage. 

Candamo,  however,  should  be  noted  as  having  given 
a  decisive  impulse  to  a  form  of  the  drama  which  was 
known  before  his  time,  and  which  served  at  last  to 
mtroduce  the  genuine  opera;  I  mean  the  zamiela, 
which  took  its  name  from  that  of  one  of  the  royal 
residences  near  Madrid,  where  they  were  first  repre- 
sented with  great  splendor  for  the  amusement  of 
Philip  the  Fourth,  by  command  of  his  brother 
*  432  Ferdinand.'^^  Thej^  are,  in  fiict,  plays  *  of  va- 
rious kinds,  —  shorter  or  longer;  entremeses  or 
full-length  comedies  ;  —  often  in  the  nature  of  vaude- 
villes, but  all  in  the  national  tone,  and  yet  all  accom- 
panied with  music. 

The  first  attempt  to  introduce  dramatic  performances 
with  music  was  made,  as  w^e  have  seen,  about  1630,  by 
Lope  de  Vega,  whose  eclogue  "Selva  sin  Amor,"  wholly 
sung,  was  played  before  the  court,  with  a  showy  appa- 
ratus of  scener}^  prepared  by  Cosmo  Lotti,  an  Italian 
architect,  and  "  was  a  thing,"  says  the  poet,  ''  new"  in 

^^  Ferdinand  was  the  gay  and  gallant  found  in  the  "  Ocios  de  Igiiacio  Alvarez 

Cardinal   Archbishop   of    Toledo    who  Pellicer  de  Toledo,"  s.  1.  1685,   4to,  p. 

commanded   the   araiies   of    Spain    in  26.       Its    tendency    to    approach    the 

Flanders  and  presided  in  her  councils  Italian  opera  is  apparent  in  its  subject, 

there.     He   died   in   1641.     (Stirling's  which  is  "The  Vengeance  of  Diana," 

Artists  of  Spain,  Vol.  II.  p.  529.)     He  as  well  ;us  in  the  treatment  of  the  stoiy, 

loved  the  theatre  as  his  brother  did,  in  the  theatrical  machinery,  etc.  ;  but 

and    in    these    lenten    entertainments  it  has  no  jioetical  merit.     A  small  vol- 

sought  to  please  him.     At  first,   only  inne,    by  Andreas   Ddvila   y   Heredia, 

airs  were  introduced  into  the  play,  but  (Valencia,    1676,    12mo, )   called   "Co- 

gradually  the  whole  was  sung.     (Ponz,  media  sin  Musica,"  is  intended  to  lidi- 

Viage  de  Espana,  Madrid,  12mo,  Tom.  cule   the    beginnings   of  the   o])era  in 

VI.,   1782,  p.   152.     Signorelli,  Storia  Spain;  but  it  is  a  prose  satire,  of  little 

dei  Teatri,  Napoli,  1813,  Svo,  Tom.  IX.  conse({ucnce  in  any  respect.     (SeeChaps. 

\>.    194.)     One   of  these   zarzuela.s,    in  XXIIl.  note  1,  XXIV.  note  38.)     Nor 

whidi  tlie  portions  that  were  sung  are  are  two  or  three  other  of  his  trifles  any 

distinguished   from  the  rest,   is  to  be  better. 


Chap.  XXA^]  ZARZUELAS.  509 

Spain."  Short  pieces  followed  soon  afterward,  enire- 
meses,  that  w^M-e  sung  in  place  of  the  ballads  between 
the  acts  of  the  inlays,  and  of  which  Benavente  was  the 
most  successful  composer  before  1645,  when  his  works 
were  first  published.  But  the  earliest  of  the  full-length 
plays  that  was  ever  sung  was  Calderon's  "  Purpura  de 
la  Rosa,"  which  was  produced  before  the  court  in  1660, 
on  occasion  of  the  marriage  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth 
with  the  Infanta  Maria  Theresa,  —  a  compliment  to 
the  distinguished  personages  of  France  who  had  come 
to  Spain  in  honor  of  that  great  solemnity,  and  whom 
it  was  thought  no  more  than  gallant  to  amuse  with 
something  like  the  operas  of  Quinault  and  Lulli,  wdiich- 
were  then  the  most  admired  entertainments  at  the 
court  of  France. 

From  this  time,  as  was  natural,  there  was  a  tendency 
to  introduce  singing  on  the  Spanish  stage,  both  in  full- 
length  comedies  and  in  farces  of  all  kinds  ;  as  may 
easily  be  observed  in  Matos  Fragoso,  in  Solis,  and  in 
most  of  the  other  writers  contemporary  with  the  latter 
part  of  Calderon's  career.  At  last,  under  the  manage- 
ment of  Diamante  and  Candamo,  a  separate  modifica- 
tion of  the  drama  grew  up,  the  subjects  for  which  were 
generally  taken  from  ancient  mythology,  like  those  of 
the  "  Circe  "  and  "  Arethusa  "  ;  and  when  they 
were  not  so  taken,  as  in  Diamante's  * "  Birth  *  433 
of  Christ,"  they  were  still  treated  in  a  manner 
much  like  that  observed  in  the  treatment  of  their  fabu- 
lous predecessors. 

From  this  form  of  the  drama  to  that  of  the  proper 
Italian  opera  was  but  a  stej),  and  one  the  more  easily 
taken,  as,  from  the  period  when  the  Bourbon  family 
succeeded  the  Austrian  on  the  throne,  the  nation;d 
characteristics   heretofore    demanded  in  whatever  ap- 


510  Z  AMOR  A.  [Period  II. 

peared  on  the  Spanish  stage  had  ceased  to  enjoy  the 
favor  of  the  court  and  the  higher  classes.  As  early  as 
1705,  therefore,  something  like  an  Italian  opera  was 
established  at  Madrid,  where,  with  occasional  intervals 
of  suspension  and  neglect,  it  has  ever  since  maintained 
a  doubtful  existence,  and  where,  of  course,  the  old  zar- 
zuelas  and  their  kindred  musical  farces  have  been  more 
and  more  discountenanced,  until,  in  their  original  forms 
at  least,  they  have  ceased  to  be  heard.'^'-^ 

Another  of  the  poets  who  lived  at  this  time  and 
wrote  dramas  that  mai'k  the  decline  of  the  Spanish 
theatre  is  Antonio  do  Zamora,  who  has  sometimes  been 
said  to  have  been  originally  an  actor ;  who  was  after- 
wards in  the  office  of  the  Indies  and  in  the  royal  house- 
hold ;■  and  whose  dramatic  career  begins  before  the  year 
1700,  though  he  did  not  die  till  after  1722,  and  prob- 
ably had  his  principal  success  in  the  reign  of  Philip  the 
Fifth,  before  whom  his  plays  were  occasionally  per- 
formed in  the  Buen  Retiro,  as  late  as  1744. 

Two  volumes  of  his  dramas  were  collected  and  pub- 
lished, with  a  >solemn  dedication  and  consecration  of 
them  to  their  author's  memory,  on  the  ground  of  ren- 
dering unto  CjBsar  the  things  which  are  Ca?sar's.  They 
are  only  seventeen  in  number,  each  longer  than 
*  434  had  been  common  on  *  the  Spanish  stage  in  its 
best  days,  and,  in  general,  very  heavy.  Those 
that  are  on  religious  subjects  sink  into  farce,  with  the 

^  See   "Selva  sin  Amor,"  with  its  EI  Teatro  Espanol,  Poema  Lirico,  s.  1. 

Preface,  printed   by  Lope  de  Vega  at  1802,  8vo,  nota.s,  p.  295  ;  — C.  Pellicer, 

the  end  of  his  "Laurel  de  Apolo,"  Ma-  Origen  del  Teatro,  Tom.  I.  p.  268  ;  — 

drid,    1630,    4to  ;  —  Benavente,    Joco-  and  Stefano  Arteaga,  Teatro  Musicale 

Seria,  1645,  and  Valladolid,  1653, 12mo,  Italiano,  Bologna,   Svo,  Tom.  I.,  1785, 

where  such  pieces  are  called  cntrcmcses  ]>.  241.     The  hust  is  an  excellent  book, 

cnntados ;  —  Calderon's  Purpura   de  la  written  by  one  of  the  Jesuits  driven 

Rosa; — Luzan   Poetica,    Lib.    III.    c.  from  Spain  by  Charles  III.,  and  who 

1  ;  —  Diamante's    LaVjyrinto  de  Creta,  died   at    Paris   in   1 799.      The   second 

jirinted  as  early  as  1667,  in  the  Coim--  edition  (Veuezia)  is   the   amplest   and 

dias  Escogidas,  Tom.  XXVII. ;  —  Parra,  best. 


Chap.  XXV.]  ZAMOllA. CANIZARES.  511 

exception  of  "Judas  Iscariot,"  which  is  too  full  of  wild 
horrors  to  permit  it  to  be  amusing.  The  best  of  the 
whole  number  is,  probably,  the  one  entitled  "  All  Debts 
must  be  paid  at  Last,"  which  is  an  alteration  of  Tirso 
de  Molina's  "  Don  Juan,"  skilfully  made  ;  —  a  remark- 
able drama,  in  which  the  tread  of  the  marljle  statue  is 
heard  with  more  solemn  effect  than  it  is  in  any  other 
of  the  many  plays  on  the  same  subject. 

But  notwithstanding  the  merit  of  this  and  two  or 
three  others,  especially  the  "Hechizado  por  Fuerza," 
it  must  be  admitted  that  Zamora's  plays  —  of  which 
above  forty  are  extant,  and  of  which  many  were  acted 
at  the  court  with  applause  —  are  very  wearisome. 
They  are  crowded  with  long  directions  to  the  actors, 
and  imply  the  use  of  much  imperfect  machinery ;  both 
of  them  unwelcome  symptoms  of  a  declining  dramatic 
literature.  Still,  Zamora  writes  with  facility,  and  shows 
that,  under  favorable  circumstances,  he  might  have 
trodden  with  more  success  in  the  footsteps  of  Calderon, 
whom  he  plainly  took  for  his  model.  But  he  came  too 
late,  and,  while  striving  to  imitate  the  old  masters, 
fell  into  their  faults  and  extravagances,  without  giving 
token  of  the  fresh  spirit  and  marvellous  invention  in 
which  their  peculiar  power  resides.^^ 

Others  followed  the  same  direction  with  even  less 
success,  like  Pedro  Francisco  Lanini,  Antonio  Mar- 
tinez, Pedro  de  Rosete,  and  Francisco  de  Villegas ;  '^* 
but  the  person  who  continued  longest  in  the  paths 
opened   by  Lope   and  Calderon  was  Joseph   de   Cani- 

3^  Comedias  de  Antonio  de  Zamora,  tirely  forgotten,  are  found  in  the  old 
Madrid,  1744,  2  torn.,  4to.  The  royal  collection  of  Comedias  E.scogidas,  pub- 
authority  to  print  the  plays  gives  also  lished  between  1652  and  1704  ;  e.  g. 
a  right  to  print  the  lyrical  works,  but  of  Lanini,  nine  plays  ;  of  Martinez, 
I  think  they  never  appeared.  His  life  eighteen  ;  and  of  Koscti^  and  Villegas, 
is  in  Baena,  Tom.  I.  p.  177,  and  notices  eleven  each.  I  am  not  aware  that  any 
of  him  in  L.  F.  Moratin,  Obras,  ed.  one  of  them  deserves  to  be  rescued 
Acad.,  Tom.  II.,  Prologo,  pp.  v-viii.  from  the  oblivion  in  which  they  are  all 

^*  These  and  many  others,  now  en-  sunk. 


512 


CAXlZAKE^i. 


[I'KUIOl)  II. 


zares,  a  poet  of  Madrid,  boni  in  10T(\,  who  began  to 
write  for  the  stage  when  he  was  only  fourteen  years 

old.  —  who  was  known  as  one  of  its  most 
*  435    *  favored  authors  for  above  forty  years,  pushing 

his  success  fer  into  the  eighteenth  century,  — 
and  who  died  in  1750.  His  pLays  are  nearly  all  m  the 
old  forms.^  A  few  of  those  on  historical  sul)jects  are 
not  without  interest,  such  as  '•  The  Tales  of  the  Great 
Captain,"  "  Charles  the  Fifth  at  Tunis."  and  ''  The  Suit 
of  Fernando  Cortes."  The  best  of  his  efforts  in  this 
class  is,  however,  "  El  Picarillo  en  Espana,"  on  the 
adventures  of  a  sort  of  Faulconbridge,  Frederic  de 
Bracamonte,  w^ho  claimed  that  his  father  had  been  un- 
justly deprived  of  the  Canaries,  which  he  had  held 
for  John  11.,  as  if  he  were  himself  their  king.  But 
Canizares,  on  the  whole,  had  most  success  in  plays 
ibunded   on  character-drawin";,  introduced  a  little  be- 


^  Two  volumes  of  the  plays  of  Cani- 
zares were  coUeuted,  but  more  cau  still 
lie  found  sejiarate,  and  many  are  lost. 
In  Moratiu's  list,  tlie  titles  of  above 
seventy  are  brought  together.  Notiees 
of  his  life  are  in  Baena,  Tom.  111.  p. 
69,  and  in  lluerta,  Teatro,  Parte  I. 
Tom.  II.  p.  347. 

Canizares  was,  at  one  time,  a  soldier, 
like  so  many  others  of  his  cultivated  and 
aceomiilished  countrymen  ;  for  Span- 
iards, from  the  time  of  Alfonso  el  Sabio 
to  that  of  Charles  IV.,  iiave,  it  should 
always  be  remembered,  united,  to  a  de- 
gree elsewhere  unknown,  the  practical 
earnestness  that  belongs  to  the  lives  of 
statesmen  and  .soldiers  with  the  grace 
and  glory  of  letters.  Garcilasso  de  la 
Vega,  saciificed  in  the  south  of  France, 
Lofie  de  Vega,  lighting  in  the  Armada, 
Cervantes  at  Li-panto,  Ercilla  in  tin; 
Amies,  Caldcron  in  Catalonia,  Men- 
floza  at  the  Council  of  Trent,  Quevedo 
at  Najiles,  and  a  hundred  others,  vouch 
for  this  singular  union  in  a  way  not  to 
be  mistaken  or  overlooked.  They  ac- 
count, too,  I  think,  for  many  of  the 
ini]M'rfections  of  Sjianish  literature,  and 
for  the  fre(|uent  failure  of  its  authors  to 


finish  what  they  had  begun  ;  for  even 
many  of  tho-se  who  had  not  grave  duties 
to  interrui)t  or  break  off  their  literary 
asjtirations  had  their  thoughts  occu- 
jiied  and  distr;i(ted  with  other  i)urpose3 
in  life,  to  which  they  had  been  trained 
as  to  their  main  duties,  rather  tlian  to 
anything  letters  could  offer.  The  re- 
ligious element,  too,  with  its  severe 
demands  and  cruel  intolerance,  should 
come  into  any  fair  estimate  of  the  diffi- 
culties encountered  by  men  of  elegant 
culture  and  tastes  in  Spain,  with  the 
diversion  it  ne(-essarily  pressed  upon 
their  inclinations  and  lives.  Luis  de 
Leon,  Virues,  Juan  de  Avila,  Zurita, 
Jlorales,  and  numberless  more,  are  cases- 
in  point,  if  the  whole  national  charac- 
ter were  not  in  fact  a  consistent  exhi- 
bition of  it.  So  that  it  seems  to  me 
much  more  remarkable  that  Spani.sh 
literature  became  what  we  now  find  it 
to  have  been,  than  that  some  of  its 
dej)artments  had  so  little  success,  and 
that  so  many  individuals  failed  to  ac- 
complish what  they  had  begun.  It 
shows  a  great  force  of  genius  in  th« 
Spanish  jieojile,  I  think,  tliat  they  got 
ou  at  all  ami  made  a  literature. 


CiiAT.   X.W.]  CANIZARES.  513 

fore  his  tinio  l)y  Morcto  and  Roxas,  and  commonly 
called,  as  we  have  noticed,  "  Comedias  de  Figuron." 
His  happiest  specimens  in  this  class  are  "  The  Famous 
Kitchen-Wench,"  taken  from  the  story  of  Cervantes, 
'•  The  Momitaineer  jit  Court,"  and  '•  Dumine  Lucas," 
where  he  drew  from  the  life  about  him,  and  selected 
his  subjects  from  the  poor,  presumptuous,  decayed 
nobility,  with  which  the  court  of  Madrid  was  then 
infested.'"*^ 

Still,  with  this  partial  success  as  a  poet,  and  with  a 
popularity  that  made  him  of  consequence  to  the  actors, 
Canizares  shows  more  distinctly  than  any  of  his  prede- 
cessors or  contemporaries  the  marks  of  a  declining 
drama.  As  we  turn  over  the  seventy  or  eighty  plays 
he  has  left  us,  we  are  constantly  reminded  of  the 
towers  and  temples  of  the  South  of  Europe, 
which,  during  the  Middle  Ages,  *  were  built  *  436 
from  fragments  of  the  nobler  edifices  that  had 
preceded  them,  proving  at  once  the  magnificence  of 
the  age  in  which  the  original  structures  were  reared, 
and  the  decay  of  that  of  which  such  relics  and  frag- 
ments were  the  chief  glory.  The  plots,  intrigues,  and 
situations  in  the  dramas  of  Canizares  are  generally 
taken  from  Lope,  Calderon,  Moreto,  Matos  Fragoso, 
and  his  other  distinguished  predecessors,  to  wdiom,  not 

^•^  Tlie  "Doniine  Lucas"  of  Canizares  the  Buen  Retiio,    on  occasion   of  the 

has  no  resemblance  to  the  lively  play  marriage  of  the    Infanta  Maria   Liiisa 

with  the  same  title  by  Lope  de  Vega,  with  the  Archduke  Peter  Leopold,  in 

in  the  seventeenth  volume  of  his  Come-  1765. 

dias,  162],  which,  he  says  in  the  Dedi-  The  "Domine  Lucas,"  which  attacks 

cation,  is  founded  on  fact,  and  which  awkward  slovenly  men  of  letters  making 

was  reprinted  in    Madrid,    1841,    8vo,  high  pretensions,  has  given  a  nickname 

with   a   Preface,    attacking,    not    only  to  the  whole  class  it  ridicules.     "Asi 

Canizares,  but  several  of  the  author's  se  vio  en  Roma  llamar  Trasones  a  todos 

contemporaries,    in    a    most    truculent  los  valadrones  ;  —  Tartufos  en  Fi'anc;ia 

manner.      The    "Domine    Lucas"    of  a  todos  los  hipocritas  ; — y  acii  en  Es- 

Canizares,  however,  is  worth  readiag,  •|)ana  en  vieudo  algun  estudianton  estra- 

particularly  in  an  edition  where  it  is  falario  le  apellidamos,  Domine  Lucas." 

accompanied  by  its  two  entrem.eses,  im-  Reflexiones   sobre    la    Leccion    critica, 

properly  called  snymtea;  —  the  whole  ec,   por  J.   P.   Foriier,    Madrid,   1786, 

newly  arranged   for   representation   in  p.  43. 
vol..    II.                               33 


514  VARIOUS    DRAMATISTS.  [rKuioD  IL 

without  tlie  warrant  of  many  exaniples  on  the  Spanish 
stage,  he  resorted  as  to  rieh  and  ancient  monuments, 
Avliich  could  still  yield  to  the  demands  of  his  age 
materials  such  as  the  age  itself  could  no  longer  fur- 
nish from  its  own  resources.^' 

It  would  he  easy  to  add  the  names  of  not  a  few 
other  writers  for  the  Spanish  stage  who  were  contem- 
porar}'  with  Canizares,  and,  like  him,  shared  in  the 
common  decline  of  the  national  drama,  or  contrihuted 
to  it.  Such  were  Juan  de  Vera  y  Yillaroel,  Inez  de  la 
Cruz,  Antonio  Tellez  de  Azevedo,  and  others  yet  less 
distinguished  while  they  lived,  and  long  ago  forgotten. 
But  writers  like  these  had  no  real  influence  on  the 
character  of  the  theatre  to  which  they  attached  them- 
selves. This,  in  its  proper  outlines,  always  remained 
as  it  was  left  b}^  Lope  de  Vega  and  Calderon,  who,  by  a 
remarkable  concurrence  of  circumstances,  maintained, 
as  far  as  it  was  in  secular  hands,  an  almost  unques- 
tioned control  over  it,  while  they  lived,  and,  at  their 
death,  had  impressed  upon  it  a  character  which  it  nev- 
er lost,  till  it  ceased  to  exist  altogether.^ 

3"  The  habit  of  using  too  freel)'  the  XXI.,  note  25)  by  publishing  in  Riva- 

works  of  their  predecessors  was  com-  deneyra's     Biblioteea    (Tom.    XLVII. 

mon  on  the  Spanish  stage  from  an  early  and  XLIX.,  1858,  1859)  two  more  vol- 

period.     Cervantes  says,  in  lt)17,  (Per-  umes  of  it,  coming  down  to  Canizares. 

siles,  Lib.  III.  c.  2,)  that  .some  compa-  The  plays,  amounting  to  above  sixt}% 

nies  kept  poets  expressly  to  new-vamp  are,    as   might   be   e.\i)ected    from   the 

old  jilays  ;  and  so  many  had  done   it  period,  of  very  une()ual  merit.     But  we 

before  him,  that  Canizares  seems  to  have  are  glad  to  have  them.     The  literary 

escaped  censure,    though  nobody,  cer-  notices  and  alphabetical  lists  tliat  open 

tainly,  had  gone  so  far.  each  volume  are,  also,  valuable  for  their 

Don  Ramon  Mesonero  Romanos  has  facts,  but  ill-written  and  showing  little 

continued  the  work   he  began  on  the  judgment  or  taste, 

school  of  Lojte  de  Vega  (see  ante,  Chap.  **  See  Appendix  (F). 


*  CHATTER    XX YI.  *437 

CHARACTER     OF     THE     SPANISH     DRAMA. THE     AUTOR,     OR     MANAGER. THE 

WRITERS    FOR     THE     STAGE. THE    ACTORS,    THEIR    NUMBER,    SUCCESS,    AND 

CONDITION. PERFORM.VNCES  BY  DAYLIGHT. THE  STAGE. THE  COURT- 
YARD, MOSQUETEROS,  GRADAS,  CAZCELA,  AND  APOSENTOS.  THE  AUDI- 
ENCES.  PLAY-BILLS,  AND  TITLES  OF  PLAYS. REPRESENTATIONS,  BALLADS, 

LOAS,  .TORNADAS,  ENTREMESES,  SAYNETES,  AND    DANCES. BALLADS  DANCED 

AND  SUNG. XACARAS,  ZARABANDAS,  AND  ALEMANAS. POPULAR  CHARAC- 
TER   OF    THE    WHOLE. GREAT    NUMBER    OF    WRITERS    AND    PLAYS. 

The  most  prominent,  if  not  the  most  imj)ortant,  char- 
acteristic of  the  Spanish  drama,  at  the  period  of  its 
widest  success,  was  its  nationality.  In  all  its  various 
forms,  mcTuding  the  religious  plays,  and  in  all  its  mani- 
fold subsidiary  attractions,  down  to  the  recitation  of  old 
ballads  and  the  exhibition  of  popular  dances,  it  ad- 
dressed itself  more  to  the  whole  people  of  the  country 
which  produced  it  than  any  other  theatre  of  modern 
times.  The  Church,  as  \ve  have  seen,  occasionally 
interfered,  and  endeavored  to  silence  or  to  restrict  it. 
But  the  drama  was  too  deeply  seated  in  the  general 
favor  to  be  much  modified,  even  by  a  power  that  over- 
shadowed nearly  everything  else  in  the  state  ;  and 
during  the  whole  of  the  seventeenth  century,  —  the 
centvuy  which  immediately  followed  the  severe  legis- 
lation of  Philip  the  Second  and  his  attempts  to  control 
the  character  of  the  stage,  —  the  Spanish  drama  was 
really  in  the  hands  of  the  mass  of  the  people,  and  its 
writers  and  actors  were  such  as  the  popular  will  re- 
quired them  to  be.^ 

1  Mariana,  in  his  treatise  "De  Spec-  nestly  insists  that  actors  of  the  low  and 
taculis,"  Cap.  VII.,  (Tractatus  Se])tein,  gross  character  he  gives  to  them  shouhl 
Coloniae  Agi-ippinte,    1609,   folio,)   ear-      not   be   permitted   to   perform   in   the 


516  THE    AUTOK.  [Peuiod  II. 

At  the  head  of  each  company  of  actors  was  their 
Alitor.  The  name  descended  from  the  time  of 
*  438  Lope  de  Rueda,  *  when  the  writer  of  the  rude 
farces  then  in  fovor  collected  about  him  a  body 
of  pla3'ers  to  perform  what  should  rather  be  called  his 
dramatic  dialogues  than  his  proper  dramas,  in  the  pub- 
lic squares  ;  —  a  practice  soon  imitated  in  France, 
where  Hardy,  the  "Author,"  as  he  styled  himself,  of 
his  own  company,  produced,  between  1600  and  1630, 
ajjout  five  hundred  rude  plays  and  farces,  often  taken 
from  Lope  de  Vega,  and  whatever  was  most  popular  at 
the  same  period  in  Spain. ^  But  while  Hardy  was  at 
the  height  of  his  success  and  preparing  the  way  for 
Corneille,  the  canon  in  Don  Quixote  had  already  recog- 
nized' in  Spain  the  existence  of  two  kinds  of  authors, 

—  the  authors  who  wrote  and  the  authors  who  acted  ;^ 

—  a  distinction  familiar  from  the  time  when  Lope  de 
A^ega  appeared,  and  one  tliat  was  never  afterwards 
overlooked.  At  any  rate,  from  that  time  actors  and 
managers  were  quite  as  rarely  writers  for  the  stage  in 
Spain  as  in  other  countries.* 

The  relations  between  the  dramatic  poets  and  the 
managers  and  actors  were  not  more  agreeable  in  Spain 
than  elsewhere.     Figueroa,  who  was  familiar  with  the 

churches,  or  to  represent  sacred  Yi]ays  ^  D.   Quixote,  Parte  I.   c.   48.     The 

anywhere  ;  and  that  the  theatres  should  Primera  dama,   or  the  actress  of  first 

be   closed   on   Sundays.     But  he  pro-  jiarts,  was  sometimes  called  the  Autora. 

duced   no   effect    against    the    popular  Diablo  Cqjuelo,  Tranco  V. 

passion.  *  Villegas  was  one  of  the  last  of  the 

'^  For  Hardy  and  his  extraordinary  authors  who  were  managers.     He  wrote, 

career,  which  was  almost  entirely  found-  we  are  told,  tifty-four  i)lays,  and  died 

ed    on    the    Spanish    theatre,    .see    the  about   1(500.      (Koxas,    Viage,   ItJH,    f. 

"  Parfait.s,"  or  any  other  history  of  the  21.)     After  this,  the  next  example  of 

French  stage.     Corneille,  in  his  "Re-  any  prominence  is  Claramonte,  who  was 

marks  on  Melite,"  says  that,  when  he  an  auJor  when  he  wrote  for  the  stage, 

began,   he   had   no  guide  but  a  little  and  died  about  1622.     The  managing 

common    .sense    and    the    example   of  nulor  was  .sometimes  the  object  of  ridi- 

Hardy,    and    a    few    others    no    more  cule  in  the  jilay  his  own  (;oinpaiiy  jier- 

rcgular  than    he   was.      The    example  forme(l,  as  he  is  in  the  "Tres  Edades 

of  Hai-dy  led  Corneille  directly  to  S]iain  del  Mundo  "  of  Luis  Vclez  de  Guevara, 

for  matfiials,  and  there,  as  we  know,  where   he   is   the  (p-ncitiso.      Comedias 

he  sought  them  freely.  Escogidas,  Tom.  XXXVlll.,  1*572. 


Chap.  XXVI.]  THE   ACTORS.  517 

subject,  says  that  the  writers  for  the  theatre  were 
obHged  to  flatter  the  heads  of  comiDanies,  in  order  to 
obtain  a  hearing  from  the  public,  and  that  they  were 
often  treated  with  coarseness  and  contempt,  especially 
when  their  plays  were  read  and  adapted  to  the  stage 
in  presence  of  the  actors  who  were  to  perform  them.^ 
Solorzano  —  himself  a  dramatist  —  gives  similar  ac- 
counts, and  adds  the  story  of  a  poet,  who  was 
not  only  rudely,  but  cruelly,  abused  by  *  a  com-  *  439 
pany  of  players,  to  whose  humors  their  aidor  or 
manager  had  abandoned  him.*^  And  even  Lope  de 
Vega  and  Calderon,  the  master-spirits  of  the  time, 
complain  bitterly  of  the  way  in  which  they  were 
trifled  with  and  defrauded  of  their  rigl>ts  and  repu- 
tation, both  by  the  managers  and  by  the  booksellers.' 
At  the  end  of  the  drama,  its  author  therefore  some- 
times announced  his  name,  and,  with  more  or  less  of 
affected  humility,  claimed  the  work  as  his  own.^  But 
this  was  not  a  custom.  Almost  nniformly,  however, 
when  the  audience  was  addressed  at  all,  —  and  that 
was  seldom  neglected  at  the  conclusion  of  a  drama,  — 


rero,  1617,  ff.  112-116.  »  Thus,  Mira  de  Mescua,  at  the  con- 

"  "Garduna   de   Sevilla,"    near   the  du.sion  of  "  The  Death  of  St.  Lazarus, " 

end,  and  the  "  Bachiller  Trapaza,"  c.  (Comedias  Escogidas,   Tom.  IX.,  1657, 

15.    Cervantes,  just  as  he  is  finishing  his  p.  167,)  says:  • — 
"Coloquio  de  los  Perros,"  tells  a  story  Here  ends  the  play 

somewhat  similar  ;  so  that  authors  were  Whose  wondrous  tale  Mira  de  Meseua"wrote 

early  ill-treated  by  the  actors.  '''o  "''*"i  ^^^  many.    Pray  forgive  our  faults. 

J  See  the  Preface  and  Dedication  of  And   Francisco  de  Leyba  finishes   his 

the      Arcadia,      by   Lope,    as  well   as  "Amadis  y  Ninuea"  (Comedias  Esco- 

other  passages  noted  m  his  Life;  — the  gklas,   Tom.   XL.,   1675,   f.   118)  with 

letter  ot  Calderon  to  the  Duke  of  Vera-  these  words  ■ 

guas  ;  —  his  Life  by  Vera  Tassis,  etc. 

It  should  be  noted,  however,  that  the  ?«?.  ^tTnnt  f''^.'''' t"""^  !''''''■ ''.™'k^'  . 

t.  1  '     .   .  T      T         >  And  at  your  feet  asks,  —  not  a  victor  shout, — 

price  ot  a  play  was  rising.      In   Lope  s  But  rather  pardon  for  his  many  faults, 

time,  as  we  have  seen,   (ante,  p.  270,  ^  ^    ^  •      ,         i.r 

note  33, )  it  was  five  hundr.^.l  rials  ;  Init  \}  generah  however,  as  in  the      Mayor 

in  Calderon's  time  it  was  eight  hundred,  J,''"?^"''''      °f  A^'^'^'"''  ^'^^'^}\  '^"^^  "^ 

even  for  the  first  ottered  by  an  author  ^^'^      ^^^"^  T.™  levantarse      of  Matos, 

and  before  its  merits  were  known  :  —  Cancer,  and  Moreto,  the  annunciation 

„...,.,  IS   simple,    and   made,    apparently,    to 

Sin  saber  si  es  buena  o  mala,  .      .    .1         •   i^       p  i,  li  i  •  1 

Ocho  cientos  reaies  cuesta  juotect  the  rights  of  the  author,  which. 

La  primera  vez.  in   the   Seventeenth   century,    were   so 

Nadie  fie  su  Secreto,  Jorn.  II.  little  respected. 


r)18  THE    ACTORS.  [Pkuiod  II. 

it  was  saluted  with  the   grave  and  flattering  title  of 
'•  Senate." 

Nor  does  the  condition  of  the  actors  seem  to  have 
been  one  which  could  be  envied  by  the  poets  who 
wrote  for  them.  Their  numbers  and  influence,  indeed^ 
soon  became  im})osing,  under  the  great  impulse  given 
to  the  drama  in  the  beoinninti;  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
turv.  When  Lope  de  Vega  first  appeared  as  a  dra- 
matic writer  at  Madrid,  the  only  theatres  he  found  were 
two  unslieltered  court-yards,  which  depended  on  such 
strolling  companies  of  players  as  occasionally  deemed 
it  for  their  interest  to  visit  the  capital.  Before  he 
died,  there  were,  besides  the  court-yards  in  Madrid, 

several  theatres  of  great  magnificence  in  the 
*  440    royal    palaces,  and    multitudinous  *  bodies   of 

actors,  comprehending  in  all  above  a  thousand 
persons.^  And  half  a  centurj^  later,  at  the  time  of  Cal- 
deron's  death,  when  the  Spanish  drama  had  taken  all 
its  attributes,  the  passion  for  its  representations  had 
spread  into  every  part  of  the  kingdom,  until  there  was 
hardly  a  village,  we  are  told,  that  did  not  possess  some 
kind  of  a  theatre.^^  Nay,  so  pervachng  and  uncontrolled 
was  the  eagerness  for  dramatic  exhibitions,  that,  not- 
withstanding the  scandal  it  excited,  secular  comedies 
of  a  very  equivocal  complexion  were  represented  by 
performers  from  the  i)ul)lic  theatres  in  some  of  the 
principal  monasteries  ol'  the  kingdom. ^^ 

®  Don  Qiiixott',  eil.  Pellicer,  1797,  performed  a  play  liefore  him,  partly  in 
Tom.  IV.  p.  110,  note.  One  account  Latin  and  ])artly  in  Portuguese,  at  their 
says  there  were  three  hundred  eomi»a-  College  of  San  Antonio;  —  an  account 
nies  of  actors  in  Spain  about  1636;  but  of  which  is  ju;iven  in  the  "  Relacion  de 
tliis  .seems  incredible,  if  it  means  com-  la  Real  Tragicomedia  con  que  los  Pa- 
panies  of  jiersons  who  live  bj'  acting.  dres  de  la  Compafiia  de  Jesus  recihieron 
Pantqja,  Sobre  Comedias,  Murcia,  1814,  a  la  Magestad  Catolica,"  etc.,  ])or  Juan 
4to,  Tom.  I.  ]).  28.  Saidina  Mimoso,  etc.,  Lisboa,  1620, 
1"  Pellicer,  Ongen  de  la.s  Comedia.s,  4to, — its  author  being,  1  believe,  An- 
1804,  Tom.  I.  p.  18.5.  tonio  de  Sousa.  Add  to  this  that  Ma- 
il Ibid.,  ].p.  2-26-228.  When  Philip  riana  (De  Spectaculis,  c.  7)  says  that 
III.  visiteil  Li.sbon  in  1619,  the  Jesuits  the   cnlrcuicscs   and   other   exhibitiona 


t'HAi'.  XXVI.]  THE    ACTORS.  519 

Ofcour.se,  out  of  so  large  a  body  of  actors,  all  stiug- 
gling  for  public  favor,  some  became  famous.  Among 
the  more  distinguished  were  Agustin  de  Roxas,  who 
wrote  the  gay  travels  of  a  company  of  comedians ; 
Eo({ue  de  Figueroa,  Melchor  de  A^illalba,  and  Rios, 
Lope's  favorites ;  Pinedo,  much  praised  by  Tirso  de 
Molina  and  Cascales ;  Alonso  de  Olmedo  and  Sebastian 
Prado,  who  were  rivals  for  public  applause  in  the  time 
of  Calderon  ;  Juan  Rana,  who  was  the  best  comic  actor 
during  the  reigns  of  Philip  the  Third  and  Philip  the 
Fourth,  and  amused  the  audiences  by  his  own  extem- 
poraneous wit,  delighting  Lady  Fanshawe,  when  he 
was  nearly  eighty  years  old ;  the  two  Morales  and 
Josefa  Vaca,  wife  of  the  elder  of  them  ;  Barbara  Coro- 
nel,  the  Amazon,  who  preferred  to  appear  as  a  man ; 
Maria  de  Cordoba,  praised  by  Quevedo  and  the  Count 
Villamediana  ;  and  Maria  Calderon,  who,  as  the 
mother  of  *  the  second  Don  John  of  Austria,  *  441 
figured  in  affairs  of  state,  as  well  as  in  those  of 
the  stage.  These  and  some  others  enjoj^ed,  no  doubt, 
that  ephemeral,  but  brilliant,  reputation  which  is  gen- 
erally the  best  reward  of  the  best  of  their  class ;  and 
enjoyed  it  to  as  high  a  degree,  perhaps,  as  an}^  per- 
sons that  have  appeared  on  the  stage  in  more  modern 
times.^^ 

between  the  acts  of  the  plays,  perfomied  Lady  of  the  Eosary.     Alonso  Fernan- 

in  the  most  holy  religious  houses,  were  dez,"  Hist,  de  Plasencia,   Madrid,  fol., 

often  of  a  gross  and  shameless  character,  1629,  p.  112. 

—  a  statement  which  occurs  partly  in  But  perhaps  tlie  most  bold  and  oflen- 

the  same  words,   in   his  treatise   "De  .si ve  instance  of  the  misu.se  of  a  church 

Kege,"  Lib.  III.  c.  16.     In  his  "  Juegos  for   dramatic   purpo.ses   w;vs   when  the 

Publicos,"  a  translation  made  by  him-  "Casa  Confusa,"  a  very  free  play  of 

self  from   his    "De   Spectaculi-s, "  but  the  Count   de    Lemos,    now  lo.st,    was 

differing  from  that  w'ork  .somewhat,  he  acted    in    tlie    church   of  San    Bias   at 

says  (c.   12)  that  the  grossly  indecent  Lerni a  before  Philip  J II.  and  his  court 

Zarabandas  were  sometimes  danced  in  in    1618,    ending  with   the    scandalous 

nunneries    during  the   Corpus   Christi.  and  voluptuous  dance  of  the  Zaraban- 

In  the  great  and  rich  convent  of  Sau  da.      See  Barrera  ad  verb.  Lcmos,  and 

Vicente  in  Plasencia,  plays  were  annu-  note  60  to  this  chapter, 

ally  performed  at  the  Festival  of  our  ^^  {_•    pdlicer,  On'gen,  Tom.  II.,  ^as- 


520 


THE    ACTORS. 


[Pkiiiod  II. 


But,  regarded  as  a  bod\',  the  Spanish  actors  seem  to 
have  been  anythhig  hut  respectable.  In  general,  they 
Avere  of  a  low  and  vulo:ar  cast  in  society,  —  so  low,  that, 
for  this  reason,  they  were  at  one  period  forbidden  to 
have  women  associated  with  tliem.^'^  The  rabble,  in- 
deed, sympathized  with  them,  and  sometimes,  when 
tlieir  conduct  called  for  punishment,  protected  them 
b}^  force  from  the  arm  of  the  law  ;  but  ])et\veen  1644 
and  1649,  when  their  number  in  the  metropolis  had 
become  very  great,  and  thej'  constituted  no  less  than 
forty  companies,  full  of  disorderly  persons  and  vaga- 
bonds, their  character  did  more  than  anything  else  to 
endanger  the  privileges  of  the  drama,  which  with  diffi- 
culty evaded  the  restrictions  their  riotous  lives 
*  442    brought  upon  it.'*     One  *  proof  of  their  gross 


sim,  Figueroa,  Plaqa  Univei-sal,  1615, 
f.  322,  b,  aud  Mad.  d'Aulnoy,  Voyage 
en  Espagne,  ed.  1693,  Tom.  I.  ]>.  97.  — 
Lope's  I)edication  of  Domine  Lucas,  in 
which  Villalba  acted,  —  Rio.s  is  reported 
by  Roxas  to  have  improved  the  costumes 
of  the  stage,  —  Pinedo  is  much  praised 
by  Lope  as  well  as  Tirso,  ex.  gr.  in 
Lope's  Peiegiino  eu  su  Patiida,  Lib. 
IV.,  when-  h.e  .sa3's  :  — 

Balta.'^ar  Je  Pinedo  tenilra  lama 

Pue.<  hace,  sieiido  I'rincipo  en  su  Arte, 

Alto?  metaniorfoseos  de  su  ro.stro, 

Color,  ojos,  s«ntidos,  voz,  y  efectos  [afectcs?], 

Tra^fonnando  la  gent*. 

Pinedo,  too,  is  in  C;u5calcs,  Tabla  IIL, 
161 6.  One  of  the  be.st  actors  of  the  best 
period  was  Sebastian  Prado,  mentioned 
above  ;  the  .siime  who,  as  head  of  a  com- 
pany, went  to  Paris  after  tlie  jnarriagc 
of  Louis  XIV.  with  the  .Spanish  hi- 
fanta,  in  1660,  and  played  there  twelve 
years  (Cha]ii»uzeau,  Theatre  Francai.s, 
1674,  12n'o,  ].i».  213,  214)  ;  — one  of 
the  many  proofs  of  the  fashion  and 
spread  of  Sjianish  Ijiterature  at  that 
time.  (C.  Pellicer,  Tom.  I.  p.  39.) 
For  Juan  Rana,  or  Araiia,  .see  Lady 
Fan.shawe's  Memoirs,  (IjOiidon,  1829, 
8vo,  i>.  236,)  and  fur  Pedro  Morales, 
.see  Navarrctc,  Vida  de  ("ervantes  (p. 
.130).  Man'a  de  Cordova  is  oftiMi  men- 
tioned witli    admiratiuii,   especially    by 


Calderon  in  the  opening  of  the  "  Da  ma 
Duende,"  under  her  known  sobriquet  of 
Avun-i/iJi.  Otlier  distinguished  actors 
of  the  seventeenth  century  are  to  be 
found  in  a  note  of  Clemencin  to  his 
edition  of  D.  Quixote,  Parte  IL  c.  11, 
and  throughout  the  veiy  imperfect  work 
of  0.  Pellicer,  Origen  del  Teatro,  Ma- 
drid, 1804. 

1^  Alonso,  Mozo  de  Muchos  Amos, 
Parte  L,  Barcelona,  1625,  f.  141.  A 
little  earlier,  atz.  1618,  Bisbe  y  Vidal 
speaks  of  women  on  the  stage  fretjuent- 
ly  taking  the  ])aits  of  men  (Tratado  de 
Comedias,  f.  50)  ;  and  from  the  direo 
tions  to  the  ]ilayers  in  the  "  Amadis  y 
Niquea"  of  Leyba,  (Comedias  E.scogida.s, 
Tom.  XL.,  1675,)  it  appears  that  the 
j)art  of  Amadis  was  expected  to  be 
played  always  by  a  woman. 

1*  C.  Pellicer,  Origen,  Tom.  L  p. 
183,  Tom.  II.  p.  29;  and  Navarro 
Castellanos,  Cartas  Apologeticas  contra 
las  Comedias,  Madrid,  1684,  4to,  pi». 
256-258.  "Take  my  adnce,"  says 
Sancho  to  his  master,  after  their  un- 
lucky encounter  with  the  playere  of  the 
jiuto  Sacr<j/iiicnf.aA,  —  "  take  my  advice, 
and  never  pick  a  quarrel  with  play- 
actors :  they  are  privileged  peojde.  1 
have  known  one  of  them  sent  to  jjri.son 
for  two  murder.s,  and  £;et  off  scot-free. 
For  mark,  your  worship,  as  they  are 


Chap.  XXVI.]  THE    ACTOKS.  521 

conduct  is  to  ])e  ibimd  in  its  results.  Many  of  them, 
filled  with  compunction  at  their  own  shocking  ex- 
cesses, took  refuge  at  last  in  a  religious  life,  like 
Prado,  who  became  a  devout  priest,  and  Francisca  Bal- 
tasara,  who  died  a  hermit,  almost  in  the  odor  of  sanc- 
tity, and  was  afterwards  made  the  subject  of  a  religious 
play.^^ 

They  had,  besides,  many  trials.  They  were  obliged 
to  learn  a  great  number  of  pieces  to  satisfy  the  de- 
mands for  novelty,  which  were  more  exacting  on  the 
Spanish  stage  than  any  other;  their  rehejirsals  Avere 
severe  and  their  audiences  rude.  Cervantes  says 
that  their  life  was  as  hard  as  that  of  the  Gypsies  ;  ^^ 
and  Roxas,  who.  knew  all  there  was  to  be  known  on 
the  subject,  says  that  slaves  in  Algiers  were  better  off 
than  they  were.^" 

To  all  this  we  must  add,  that  they  were  poorly  paid, 
and  that  their  managers  were  almost  always  in  debt. 
But,  like  other  forms  of  vagabond  life,  its  freedom  from 
restraints  made  it  attractive  to  not  a  few  loose  persons, 
in  a  country  like  Spain,  where  it  was  difficult  to  find 
liberty  of  any  sort.  This  attraction,  however,  did  not 
last  long.  The  drama  fell  in  its  consequence  and  pop- 
ularity as  rapidly  as  it  had  risen.  Long  before  the  end 
of  the  century,  it  ceased  to  encourage  or  protect  such 
numbers  of  idlers  as  were  at  one  time  needed  to  sus- 

gay  fellows,  full  of  fun,  everybody  fi-  ^^  Roxas,  Viage,   1614,  f.  138.     The 

vers  thein  ;   eveiybody  defends,  helps,  necessities  of  the  actors  were  so  jjress- 

and  likes  them  ;  especially  if  they  be-  ing,   that  they  were  paid  their  wages 

long  to  the  royal  and  authorized  com-  every  night,  as  soon  as  tlie  acting  was 

])anies,  where  all  or  most  of  them  dress  over. 

as  if  they  were    real   princes."      Don  Un  Representante  cobra 

Quixote,  Parte  II.  c.  11,  with  the   note  Oada  noehe  !o  que  fr.na, 

c  r^^               •  Y  el  Alitor  pa<;a,  aunque 

of  Clemencin.  No  hav  dinero  en  la  Caxa. 

^5  C.    Pellicer,    Origen,    Tom.    II.    p.  El  Mejor  Representante,  Comedia.s  EscoKidii.«s 

53,  and  elsewhere  throughout  the  vol-  Tom.  xxix.,  1668,  p  199. 

lime.  .  , 

16   Tn  the  tale  of  the  "  T  i(>encia.ln  Vi-  '^^''  ^'^^"^  ^"^^  *^'^  '^''^^''^  '^'"•^  "'*-'^'  • 

.         ,,  ^'^^  ^^''     "'  ^'^^       l^icenciauo   V  l-  j,„^  ^,jg  j,„„^  Manager  must  pa.y  him  uj). 

driera.  Although  his  treasure-chest  is  clear  nf  <oiM. 


522  THE    CORRALES,    OR    TIIEATIJES.  [Pi.i:ior.  II. 

tain  its  success  ;  ^-  and  in  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Sec- 
ond it  was  not  easy  to  collect  three  companies  for 
the  festivities  occasioned  by  his  marriage.^^  Half  a 
century    earlier,  twenty  would    have   striven    for  the 

honor. 
*  443         *  During  the  whole  of  the  successful   period 

of  the  drama  in  Spain,  its  exhibitions  took  place 
in  the  da3'time.  On  the  stages  of  the  different  palaces, 
where,  when  Howell  was  in  Madrid,  in  1623,^"  there 
were  regular  representations  once  a  week  or  oftener,  it 
was  sometimes  otherwise ;  but  the  religious  plays  and 
mdos,  with  all  that  were  intended  to  be  reall}^  popular, 
were  represented  in  broad  daylight,  —  in  the  winter  at 
two,  and  in  the  summer  at  three,  in  the  afternoon, 
every  day  in  the  week.^^  Till  near  the  middle  of  the 
seventeenth  centur^^  the  scenery  and  o-eneral  arrano-e- 
ments  of  the  theatre  w^ere  probably  as  good  as  they 
were  in  France  when  Corneille  appeared,  or  perhaps 
better ;  but  in  the  latter  part  of  it,  the  French  stage 

18  "  Poudus  iiiers  rcipublicii;,  at{|ue  his  letter,  October  21,  1659,  to  his  sis- 
inutile,"  said  Mariana,  Ue  Speetaciili.s,  ter.  Mad.  de  Motteville,  in  her  Me- 
c.  9.  But  the  attiactioiis  of  this  liber-  moires  d'Aime  d'Aiitriche,  ed.  IZHO, 
tine  and  vagabond  life — vida  lil)ertina  Toui.  V.  pp.  360-362.  From  1622  to 
y  vagamunda  —  are  chai-acteristically  1685,  jdays  were  constantly  acted  in 
and  trulj'  set  forth  in  the  ftpuriou.'i  some  of  the  palaces  before  the  court ;  — 
Second  Part  of  Guzman  de  Alfarache,  oftener,  I  think,  on  Sundays  and  Thurs- 
Lib.  111.  caj).  7.  Mariana  would  have  days  than  on  other  days.  The  price 
all  connected  with  it  driven  out  of  the  ])aid  the  actors  sounds  rather  mean  foi- 
kingdom,  — a  totius  patriai  tinibus  e.\-  royalty  ;  —  two  and  tliree  hundred  rials 
terminareutur  quasi  pestes  certissimaj.  at  Hrst,  or  from  ten  to  thirteen  and  a 
De  Kege,  Lib.  II.  c.  6.  third   dollars;  —  later,    more.      When 

^'  Hugalde  y  Parra,   Origen  del  Te-  the  Prince  of  Wales,  afterwards  Charles 

atro,  p.  312.  I.,  was  there  in  1623,  on  the  madcaji 

*^  Familiar   Letteis,    London,   1754,  expedition  with  Buckingham,  there  was 

8vo,  Book  I.  Sect.  3,  Letter  18.     When  es])ecial  splendor  in  the  representation 

the    Marechal    de  Orammont  went   to  of  plays  before  him.     Plays  were  al.so 

iladiid,    in    1659,   about   the   Peace   of  acted  during  the  progres.ses  or  journeys 

the  Pyrenees  and  the  marriage  of  Louis  of  the  King  and  the  Infantes,  —  once 

XIV.,  he  gave  a  .similar  aecount  of  the  in  the  Alhainbia,  and  twice  on  board 

plays  at  the  palace.     The  one  he  saw  galleys  in  the  bays  of  Villafranca  and 

was  acted  by  the  light  of  si.\  enormous  Tarragona,  — ■  .so  great  was  the  pa.ssion 

WAX  fl/nabe/iwx  in  silver  chandeliers  of  for  the  stage  in  the  seventeenth  century. 

]irodigious  size  and  magnificence.     Tiie  Schack,  Nachtriige,  1854,  p]i.. 66-76. 
audience,  of  course,  was  small  and  for-  ■■^'  C.  Pellicer,  Origen,  Tom.  I.  p.  220. 

inal  ;  giave  ami  .stiff  a.s  [lo.ssible.     See  Aarsens,  Voyivge,  1667,  [>.  29. 


Chap.  XXVI.]        THE  C'ORRALES,  OU  TIIEATKES.  523 

was  imclouljtecUy  in  advance  of  that  at  Madrid,  and 
Madame  d'Anlnoy  makes  herself  merry  by  telling  her 
friends  that  the  Spanish  sun  was  made  of  oiled  paper, 
and  that  in  the  play  of  "  Alcina "  she  saw  the  devils 
quietly  climbing  ladders  out  of  the  infernal  regions,  to 
reach  their  places  on  the  stage.^^  Plays  that  required 
inore  elaborate  arrangements  and  machinery  were 
called  comedias  de  rnido,  —  noisy  or  showy  dramas,  — 
and  are  treated  with  little  respect  by  Figueroa  and 
Luis  Velez  de  Guevara,  because  it  was  thought  un- 
worth}^  of  a  poetical  spirit  to  depend  for  success  on 
means  so  mechanical.^^ 

*  The  stage  itself,  in  the  two  principal  the-  *  444 
atres  of  Madrid,  was  raised  only  a  little  from 
the  ground  of  the  court-yard,  where  it  was  erected, 
and  there  was  no  attempt  at  a  separate  orchestra,  — 
the  musicians  coming  to  the  forepart  of  the  scene 
whenever  they  were  wanted.  Immediately  in  front 
of  the  stage  were  a  few  benches,  which  afforded  the 
best  places  for  those  who  bought  single  tickets,  and 
behind  them  was  the  unencumbered  portion  of  the 
court-yard,  where  the  common  file  were  obliged  to 
stand  in  the  open  air.  The  crowd  there  was  generally 
great,  and  the  j)ersons  composing  it  were  called,  from 
their  standing  posture  and  their  rude  bearing,  mosqiie- 
teros,  or  infantry.  They  constituted  the  most  formida- 
ble and  disorderly  part  of  the  audience,  and  were  the 
portion  that  generally  determined  the  success  of  new 

^■^  Relation    tlu    Voyage    d'Espagne,  value  concerning  the  S])anisli  Theatre 

par  Madame  la  Contesse  d'Anlnoy,  La  and  it.s  decorations   may  be  found  in 

Haye,  1693,  18mo,  Tom.  III.  p.  21,—  Luis  Lamarca,  Teatro  de  Valencia,  1848, 

the    same    who   wrote    beautiful    fairy  pj).  21-29,  with  the  notes  at  the  end. 

tales.      She    was    there    in    1679-80;  But  it  sliould  be  borne  in  mind  while 

but  Aarsens  gives  a  similar  account  of  reading  Lamarca,   that  the  theatre  at 

things  twenty-five  years  earlier  (Voy-  Valencia  was  probably  always  inferior 

age,  1667,  p.  59).  in  its  appointments  to  cither  of  those  at 

^  Figueroa,  Pasagero,  and  Guevara,  Madrid. 
Diablo  Cojuelo.     Information  of  some 


524  THE    AUDIENCES.  [PF.raoD  IL 

plays."-*  One  of  their  body,  a  shoemaker,  ^vho  in  1680 
reigned  supreme  in  the  court-yard  over  the  opinions 
of  those  around  him,  reminds  us  at  once  of  the  critical 
trunk-maker  in  x\ddison.^^  x\nother,  who  was  offered 
a  hundred  rials  to  favor  a  play  about  to  be  acted,  an- 
swered proudly,  that  he  would  first  see  whether  it  was 
good  or  not,  and,  after  all,  hissed  it.-*^  Sometimes  the 
author  himself  addressed  them  at  the  end  of  his  pla}^, 
and  stooped  to  ask  the  applause  of  this  lowest  portion 

of  the  audience.     But  this  was  rare.^' 
*  445        *  Behind    the     sturdy    mosqueteros    were    the 

gradas,  or  rising  seats,  for  the  men,  and  the 
cameld,  or  "  stewpan,"  where  the  women  were  strictly 
enclosed,  and  sat  crowded  together  by  themselves. 
Above  all  these  different  classes  were  the  desvanes  and 
aposentos,  or  l)alconies  and  rooms,  whose  open,  shop-like 
windows  extended  round  three  sides  of  the  court-yard 
in  different  stories,  and  were  filled  by  those  persons  of 
both  sexes  who  could  afford  such  a  luxury,  and  who 
not  unfrequently  thought  it  one  of  so  much  conse- 
quence, that  they  held  it  as  an  heirloom  from  genera- 
tion to  generation.^     The  ajjosentos  were,  in  fact,  com- 

2*  C.   Pellicer    Ori'^en,  Tom.   I.  pp.  Perhaps  we  should  not  have  expected 

53   55    63   68.  "  such  a  condesceusion  from  Soli's,   but 

25  Mad.' d'AulnoT,  Voyage,  Tom.  III.  he  stooped  to  it.     At  the  conclusion  of 

p.  21.     Spectator,  No.  235.  his  well-known  "Doctor  Carlino,"  (Co- 

2«  Aarsens,  Relation,  at  the  end  of  niedias,  1716,  p.  262,)  he  turns  to  them, 

his  Voyage,  1667,  p.  60.  saying:  — 

^   Manuel  Morchon,  at  the  end  of  his  And  here  expires  my  pl.iy      If  it  has  plea-sed, 

"  Vitoria  del  Amor,"  (Comedias  Escogi-  Let  the  SeBores  Mosqueteros  cry  a  victor 

das,  Tom.  IX.,  1657,  p.  242, )  says  :  -  ^^  **«  "urial. 

Most  honorable  Mosqueteros,  here  Calderon  did  the  same  at  the  end  of  his 

i)on  M.iniu-1  Mor'hon,  in  gentlest  form,  "Galan  Fantasiua,"  but  in  jest.     Every- 

Be»--e<h.-s  you  to  -^nve  him,  a.s  an  alms  thing,  indeed,  tliat  we  know  about  the 

At1^t;'rThVg^^"u.uiuU'ow'to&you.  raosqucO:ros  sliows  that  their  influence 

was  great  on  the  theatre  in  the  theatre  s 

In  the  same  way,  Antonio  de  Huerta,  -^^.^  j^^^.j,      j„  tj,^.  i.i„hteenth  century 

sneaking  of  his  "  Cmoo  Blancas  de  Juan  ^^.^  ^^^.^^^  ^,„i  j^  Governing  everything. 
EsperaenDios,"  (lliid.,  Tom.  XXXIl.,  28  Aarsens,  Helation,  j..  59.    Zavaleta, 

1669,  p.  179,)  addresses  them:—  j^-^^  ^\^.   Fi,.sta  por  la   Tardc,   Madrid, 

And  should  it  now  a  Tictor  cry  deserre,  1660,    12mo,    pp.    4,   8,  9.      C.  Pellicer, 

PenoresMos-jUeteroF,  you  will  here,  Tom.  I.  Mad.  d'AulnOV,  Tom.  III.  p. 
In  chantv,  Touchsfife  topve  me  one;  —  .     ,  ,        -:    ,,         ,™        ' 

That  is,  in  case  the  play  has  pleased  you  weU.  22,   says  ol   the       tazuela     :        loutes 


Cjiap.  XXVI.]  THE    AUDIENCES.  525 

modious  rooms,  and  tlio  ladies  who  resorted  to  them 
generally  went  masked,  as  neither  the  actors  nor  the 
audience  were  always  so  decent  that  the  lady-like 
modesty  of  the  more  courtly  portion  of  society  might 
be  willing  to  countenance  them.'-^ 

It  was  deemed  a  distinction  to  have  free  access  to  the 
theatre  j  and  persons  who  cared  little  about  the  price 
of  a  ticket  struggled  hard  to  obtain  it;^*^  Those  who 
paid  at  all  paid  twice,  —  at  the  outer  door,  where  the 
manager  sometimes  collected  his  claims  in  person,  and 
at  the  inner  one,  where  an  ecclesiastic  collected  what 
belonged  to  the  hospitals,  under  the  gentler  name  of 
ahns.^^  The  audiences  were  often  noisy  and  unjust. 
Cervantes  intimates  this,  and  Lope  directly  complains 
of  it.  Suarez  de  Figueroa  says,  that  rattles,  crackers, 
bells,  whistles,  and  keys  were  all  put  in  requisi- 
tion, *  when  it  was  desired  to  make  an  uproar  ;  *  446 
and  Benavente,  in  a  loa  spoken  at  the  opening 
of  a  theatrical  campaign  at  Madrid  by  Roque,  the 
friend  of  Lope  de  A^ega,  deprecates  the  ill-humor  of  all 
the  various  classes  of  his  audience,  from  the  fashion- 
able world  in  the  (ijmsenios  to  the  mosqueleros  in  the 
court-yard ;  though  he  adds,  with  some  mock  dignity, 
that  he  little  fears  the  hisses  which  he  is  aware  must 


les    dames    d'une    mediocre    vertu   s'y  "Sdtira  contra  los  Abusos  en  el  Arte 

inettent  et  tons  les  grands  Seigneurs  y  de  la  Declaniacion  Teatral,"  (Madrid, 

vont  pour  causer  avec  elles."  1834,  12mo,)  says  :  — 

^9   Guillen   de   Castro,    "  Mai  Casados  Tal  vez  alguna  insipida  mozuela 
de    Valencia,"    Jorn.     II.        It    may    he  De  ti  se  premie  ;  mas  si  el  Prtdo  brama, 
worth  notice,   perhaps,  that  the  tradi-  Que  te  vale  un  rincon  de  la  Ca^weta." 
tions  of  the  Spanish  theatre  are  still  But  this  part  of  the  theatrs;  is  more  re- 
true  to  its  origin  ;  —  aposentos,  or  apart-  spectable  than  it  was  in  the  seventeenth 
ments,  being  still  the  name  for  the  boxes ;  century. 

paiio,  or  court-yard,  that  of  the  pit ;  and  ^  Zabaleta,    Dia    de    Fiesta    por   la 

mosqueteros,  or  musketeers,  that  of  tlu^  Tarde,  p.  2. 

persons  who  fill  the  pit,  and  who  still  '^^  Cervantes,  Viage  al  Parnaso,  1784, 
claim  many  privileges,  as  the  successors  p.  148.  Other  small  sums  were  ]iaid  for 
of  those  who  stood  in  the  heat  of  the  access  to  other  parts  of  the  Palio.  The 
old  court-yard.  As  to  tlie  cazuda,  apusento.i  were,  apparently,  a  costly  lux- 
Breton  de  los  Herreros,  in  his  spirited  ury.     Pellicer,  1.  98-100. 


526 


AUDIENCES. 


PLAY-BILLS. 


r Period  IL 


follow  such  a  defiance.*-  AVlieii  the  audience  meant 
to  applaud,  they  cried  "  Victor ! "  and  were  no  less 
tumultuous  and  unrul}^  than  Avhen  they  hissed.'^'^  In 
Cervantes's  time,  after  the  play  was  over,  if  it  had 
been  successful,  the  author  stood  at  the  door  to  receive 
the  congratulations  of  the  crowd  as  they  came  out ; 
and,  later,  his  name  was  placarded  and  paraded  at  the 
corners  of  the  streets  with  an  annunciation  of  his 
triumph.'^^ 

Cosme  de  Oviedo,  a  well-known  manager  at  Granada, 
was  the  first  who  used  advertisements  for  announcincr 
tlie  play  that  was  to  be  acted.  This  was  about  the 
year  1600.  Half  a  century  afterwards,  the  condition 
of  such  persons  was  still  so  humble,  that  one  of  the 
best  of  them  went  round  the  city  and  posted  his  play- 
bills himself,  which  were,  probably,  written,  and  not 
printed."^     From  an  early  period  they  seem  to  have 

o-iven  to  acted  plavs  the  title  which  full-lenirth 
*  447    Spanish  dramas  almost  *  uniformly  l)ore  during 

the  seventeenth  century-  and  even  afterwards, 


3'^  Cervantes,  Prologo  a  las  Comcdias. 
Lopc!,  Prefaces  to  several  of  his  plays. 
Figueroa,  Pasagero,  1617,  p.  10.5.  lieiia- 
vente,  Joco-Seria,  Valladolid,  1653, 
12ino,  f.  81.  One  of  the  ways  in  wliich 
the  audiences  expressed  their  disappro- 
bation was,  as  Cervantes  intimates,  by 
throwing  cucumbers  (pejnnos)  at  the 
actors. 

^  Mad.  d'Aulnoy,  Voyage,  Tom.  I.  p. 
5.5.  Tirso  de  Molina,  Deleytar,  Madrid, 
1765,  4to,  Tom.  II.  p.  333.  At  the  end 
of  a  play  the  icholfi  audience  is  not  un- 
fre(iuently  ajtpealed  to  for  a  "Victor" 
by  the  second-rate  authors,  as  we  have 
seen  the  moxqueteros  were  sometimes, 
though  rarely.  Diego  de  Figueroa,  at 
the  conclusion  of  his  "  Hija  del  Me- 
.sonero,"  (Comedias  Kscogidas,  Tom. 
XIV.,  1662,  p.  182,)  asks  for  it  as  for 
an  aliris,  "  Dadle  un  Vitor  de  limosna"  ; 
and  Hodrigo  Enriciuez,  in  his  "Sufrir 
mas  por  (juerer  nienos,"  (Tom.  X.,  1658, 
p.  222, )  a.sks  for  it  as  for  the  veils  given 
to  servants  in  a  gaming-house,  "  \'en- 


ga  uu  Vitor  de  barato."  Sometimes  a 
good  deal  of  ingenuity  is  used  to  bring 
m  the  word  Vitor  \\x^t  at  the  end  of  the 
piece,  so  that  it  shall  be  echoed  by  the 
audience  without  an  o])en  demand  for 
it,  as  it  is  by  Calderon  in  his  "  Amado 
y  Aborrecido,"  and  in  the  "  Difunta 
Pleyteada"  of  Francisco  de  Koxas.  But, 
in  general,  when  it  is  asked  for  at  all, 
it  is  rather  claimed  as  a  right.  Once, 
in  "  Lealtad  contra  su  Key,"  by  Juan 
de  Villegas,  (Comedias  Escogidas,  Tom. 
X.,  1658,)  the  two  actois  wlio  end  the 
piece  impertinently  ask  the  applause 
for  themselves,  and  not  for  the  author  ; 
a  jest  which  was,  no  doubt,  well  re- 
ceived. 

^  Cervantes,  Viage,  1784,  p.  138. 
Novelas,  1783,  Tom.  I.  p.  40. 

35  Roxas,  Viage,  1614,  f.  51.  Bena- 
vente,  Joco-Seria,  1653,  f.  78.  Alonso, 
Mozo  de  Muchos  Amos  ;  —  by  which 
(Tom.  I.  f.  137)  it  appears  that  the 
placards  were  written  as  late  as  1624, 
in  Seville. 


OttAP.  XXVI.]  REPRESEXTATIOXS.  527 

—  that  of  comcdla  ftunom ;  though  we  must  except 
from  this  remark  the  case  of  Tirso  de  Mohna,  who 
amused  himself  with  calUng  more  than  one  of  his  suc- 
cessful performances  "  Comedia  8m  fama,"'^*'  —  a  plaj' 
without  repute.  But  this  was,  in  truth,  a  matter  of 
mere  form,  soon  understood  bj  the  public,  Avho  needed 
no  especial  excitement  to  bring  them  to  theatrical 
entertainments,  for  which  they  were  constitutionally 
•eager.  Some  of  the  audience  went  earlj^  to  secure 
good  places,  and  amused  themselves  with  the  fruit  and 
confectionery  carried  round  the  court-yard  for  sale, 
or  with  watchino-  the  movements  of  the  laufhino- 
dames  who  were  enclosed  within  the  balustrade  of  the 
cazucia,  and  who  were  but  too  ready  to  flirt  with  all  in 
their  neighborhood.  Others  came  late ;  and  if  they 
were  persons  of  authority  or  consequence,  the  actors 
waited  for  their  appearance  till  the  disorderly  murmurs 
of  the  groundlings  compelled  them  to  begin.'^' 

At  last,  though  not  always  till  the  rabble  had  been 
composed  by  the  recitation  of  a  favorite  ballad,  or 
by  some  popular  air  on  the  guitars,  one  of  the  more 
respectable  actors,  and  often  the  manager  himself, 
appeared  on  the  stage,  and,  in  the  technical  phrase, 
"threw  out  the  fo«,"  or  compliment,'^^  —  a  peculiarly 

^  This  title  lie  gave  to  "Comohan  Antigua,"  Madrid,   159G,   4to,   p.   413, 

de  ser  los  Amigos,"  "  Amor  por  Razon  and  Salas  "Tragedia  Antigua,"  Madrid, 

•de   Estado,"    and   some   otliers   of  his  1633,    4to,   p.    184.     Luys  Alfonso   de 

jdays.     It  may  be  noted  that    a  full-  Carvallo,  in  his  Cism  de  Apolo,  1602, 

length  play  was  sometimes  called  Gran  f.  124,  deiines  the  Loa  thus:   "  Aora  le 

Comedia,  as  twelve  such  are  in  Tom.  llaman  loa  por  loar  en  el  la  comedia,  el 

XXXI.  of  "Las  Mejores  Comedias  que  auditorio  o  festividad  en  que  se  hace, 

hasta  oy  han  salido,"  Barcelona,  1638.  mas  ya  le  podremos  asi  Uamar,  ]iorquc 

•Calderon    called   his    full-length    plays  han  dado   los  poetas   en  alabar  alguna 

(Iran  comedia,  perhaps  because  Lope's  cosa  como  el  sileneio,    un  numero,    lo 

had  been  called /«mo.s«.  negro,  lo  pequeno  y  otras  cosas  en  que; 

^^  Mad.  d'AuInoy,  Voyage,  Tom.  III.  .sequieren.senaIarymostrarsusingenios, 

p.  22,  and  Zabaleta,  Fiesta  por  la  Tarde,  aunque  todo  deve  ir  ordenado  al  iiu  que 

1660,  pp.  4,  9.  yo  dLxe  que  es,  captar  la  benevolencia  y 

^  Cigarralesde  Toledo,  Madrid,  1624,  atencion  del  auditorio."     But  after  all, 

4to,  p.  99.    There  is  a  good  deal  of  learn-  as  a  general  idea  of  the  loa,  Sir  Richard 

ing  about  has  in  Pinciano,  "  Filcsofia  Fanshawe  is  right,  when,  in  his  trans- 


528  LOAS.  [PicuioD  IL 

Spanish  form  of  the  prologue,  of  wliieli  we  liave  abun- 
dant specimens  from  the  time  of  Naharro,  who 
*  448  calls  them  intru/jtos,  *  or  overtures,  down  to  the 
final  fall  of  the  old  drama.  The}'  are  prefixed 
to  all  the  autos  of  Lope  and  Calderon  ;  and  though,  in 
the  case  of  the  nudtitudinous  secular  plays  of  the 
Spanish  theatre,  the  appropriate  loas  are  no  longer 
found  regularl}^  attached  to  each,  yet  we  have  them 
occasionalh'  with  the  dramas  of  Tirso  de  Molina.  Cal- 
deron, Antonio  de  Mendoza,  and  not  a  few  others. 

The  best  are  those  of  Agustin  de  Roxas,  whose 
'•  Amusing  Travels "  are  full  of  them,  and  those  of 
Quiilones  de  Benavente,  foiuid  among  his  "  Jests  in 
Earnest."  They  were  in  diflerent  forms,  dramatic,  nar- 
rative, and  lyrical,  and  on  very  various  subjects  and  in 
very  various  measures.  One  of  Tirso's  is  in  praise  of 
the  beautiful  ladies  who  were  present  at  its  represen- 
tation;'^—  one  of  Mendoza's  is  in  honor  of  the  cap- 
ture of  Breda,  and  flatters  the  national  vanity  upon 
the  recent  successes  of  the  Marquis  of  Spinola  ;  *^  — 
one  b}^  Roxas  is  on  the  glories  of  Seville,  where  he 
made  it  serve  as  a  conciliatory  introduction  for  him- 
self and  his  company,  when  the}'  were  about  to  act 
there  ;  ^^  —  one  by  Sanchez  is  a  jesting  account  of  the 
actors  who  were  to  perform  in  the  play  that  was  ta 
follow  it;*^  —  and  one  by  Benavente  was  spoken  by 
Roque  de  Figueroa,  when  he  began  a  series  of  repre- 

lation  of  Mendoza's  "Querer  por  solo  de  Mendoza,  Lisboa,  1690,   4to,  p.  78,^ 

querer,"  he  speaks  of  the  prologue  as  and  may  liave  been  spoken  before  Cal- 

ealled  by  the  Spaniards  loa,  i.  e.  the  derou's  well-known  play,  "  El  Sitio  de 

praise,   because  therein   the   speetators  Breda."     See  ante.  Chap.  XXIV. 

are  eoniniendeil  lociirnj  favor  ivith  them.  ''^  Four  persons  appear  in  this  loa,  - — 

1671.     Music  was  fr-ely  introduced  into  a  part  of  which  is  .sung, — and,  at  tln^ 

the  Ions.     Kenjifo,  ed.  1727,  p.  166.  end,  Seville  enters  and  grants  them  all 

^  The   loa.   to   the   "  Vergonzoso  en  leave  to  act  in  her  city.     Viage,  1614. 

Palacio  "  ;  it  is  in  dUcimas  rcdovdillas.  11'.  4-8. 

*^  It  gives  an  account  of  the  recep-  *'■'  Lyra  Poetica  de  Vicente  Sanchez, 

tion  of  the  news  at  the  italace,  (Obras  Zaragoza,  1688,  4to,  p.  47. 


Chap.   XXVI.]  LOAS.  529 

sentations  at  court,  and  is  devoted  to  a  pleasant  expo- 
sition of  the  strengtli  of  liis  company,  and  a  boastful 
<announcement  of  the  new  dramas  they  were  able  to 
produce.'*' 

*  Gradually,  however,  the  loas,  whose  grand  *  449 
object  was  to  conciliate  the  audience,  took  more 
iind  more  the  popular  dramatic  form  ;  and  at  last,  like 
several  by  Roxas,  Mira  de  Mescua,  Moreto,  and  Lope 
de  Vega,**  differed  little  from  the  fjtrces  that  followed 
them.*^  Indeed,  they  were  almost  always  fitted  to  the 
particular  occasions  that  called  them  forth,  or  to  the 
known  demands  of  the  audience  ;  —  some  of  them 
being  accompanied  with  singing  and  dancing,  and 
others  ending  with  rude  practical  jests.*^  They  are, 
therefore,  as  various  in  their  tone  as  they  are  in  their 
forms ;  and,  from  this  circumstance,  as  well  as  from 
their  easy  national  humor,  they  became  at  last  an 
important  part  of  all  dramatic  representations. 

The  first  Jornada  or  act  of  the  principal  performance 
followed  the  loa,  almost  as  a  matter  of  course,  though, 
in   some   instances,  a  dance   was   interposed  ;    and  in 

*3  Joco-Seria,    1653,   ff.    77,    82.     In  tales,  con  Quatro  Comedias  Nuevas  y 

another  he  parodies  some  of  the  t'avnil-  sus  Loas  y  Entremeses, "  Madrid,  1G55, 

iar  old  ballads  (ff.  43,  etc. )  in  a  way  4to. 

that  must  have  been  very  amu.sing  to  *'"  A    loa    entitled    "  El    Cuerpo    de 

the  mosqueteros ;  a,  practice  not  unconi-  Guardia,"  by  Luis  Enriquez  de  Fon- 

mon  in  the  lighter  dramas  of  the  Span-  seca,    and    performed   by    an    amateur 

ish  stage,  most  of  which  are  lo.st.     In-  company   at    Naples    on    Easter    eve, 

stances  of  it  are  found  in  tlie  cntrcmes  1669,  in  honor  of  the  queen  of  Spain, 

of  "Melisendra,"  by  Lope  (Comedias,  is  as  long  as  &  sayncte,  and  much  like 

Tom.  I.,  Valladolid,  1609,  p.  333)  ;  and  one.     It  is  —  together  with  another  loa 

two  burlesque  dramas  in  Comedias  Es-  and  several  curious  bayles  —  part  of  a 

cogidas,  Tom.  XLV.,  1679,  —  the  first  jjlay  on  the  subject  of  A^iriatus,  entitled 

entitled  "  Traycion  en  Propria  SanOTe,"  "The   Si^anish   Hannibal,"   and  to   be 

being  a  parody  on  the  ballads  of  the  found  in  a  collection  of  his  poems,  less 

"  Infantes  de  Lara,"  and  the  other  en-  in  the   Italian  manner  than  miglit  lie 

titled    "El   Amor  mas   Verdadero,"    a  expected  from  a  Spaniard  who  lived  and 

parody  on  the  ballads  of  "  Durandarte  "  wrote  in  Italy.      Fonseca  publislied  tin- 

and  "  Belerma  "  ;  —  both  very  extrava-  volume  containing  them  ail  at  Naples, 

gant  and  dull,  but  showing  the  tenden-  in  1683,  4to,  and  called  it  "Ocios  de 

cies  of  the  popular  ta.ste  not  a  whit  the  los    Estudios "  ;    a   volume   not   worth 

less.  •  reading,  and  yet  not  wholly  to  be  passed 

**  These  curious  loan  are  found  in  a  over, 
rare  volume,  called  "Autos  Sacranien-  *^  Roxas,  Viage,  ft'.  189-193. 

VOL.   II.  34 


530  EXTREMESES.  [Pkkiod  If. 

others*,  Figueroti  complains  that  he  had  been  obliged 
still  to  listen  to  a  ballad  before  he  was  permitted  to 
reach  the  regular  drama  which  he  had  come  to  hear ;  ^' 
—  so  importunate  were  the  audience  for  what  was 
lightest  and  most  amusing.  At  the  end  of  the  first 
act,  though  perhaps  preceded  by  another  dance,  came 
the  first  of  the  two  cntremescs,  —  a  sort  of  "  crutches." 
as  the  editor  of  Benavente  well  calls  them,  "  that  were 
given  to  the  liea\y  comedias  to  keep  them  from  falling." 
Nothing  can  well  be  gayer  or  more  free  than  these 
fa\orite  entertainments,  which  were  generally  written 
in  the  genuine  Castilian  idiom  and  spirit.*^  At  first, 
the}-  were  fjirces.  or  parts  of  farces,  taken  from 
*  450  ^  Lope  de  Rueda  and  his  school;  but  afterwards, 
■  Lope  de  Vega,  Cervantes,  and  the  other  writers 
for  the  theatre,  composed  eiiiremeses  better  suited  to  the 
changed  character  of  the  drama  in  their  times.*^  Their 
su])jects  were  generally  chosen  from  the  adventures  of 
the  lower  classes  of  society,  whose  manners  and  follies 
the}^  ridiculed ;  many  of  the  earlier  of  the  sort  ending, 
as  one  of  the  Dogs  in  Cervantes's  dialogue  complains 
that  the}'  did  too  often,  with  vulgar  scuffles  and  blows.^ 
But  later,  they  became  more  poetical,  and  were  min- 
gled with  allegory,  song,  and  dance  ;  taking,  in  fact, 
whatever  forms  and  tone  were  deemed  most  attractive. 
They  seldom  exceeded  a  few  minutes  in  length,  and 
never  had  any  other  purpose  than  to  relieve  the  atten- 

*'  Cigarrales  de  Toledo,  1624,  pp.  104  tinctl3-.set  forth  in  Lope's  "Arte  Xuevo 

and  403.     Figueroa,  Pasagero,  1617,  f.  de  liacer  Coiuedias  "  ;  and  both  the  fir.st 

109,  b.  and  thh-d  volumes  of  his  collection  of 

**  Sarmiento,    the   literarj'  historian  plays  contain  e»<re«(c«fts;  besides  which, 

and   critic,    in   a   letter    cited    in    the  several  are  to  be  found  in  his  Obras  Su- 

"  iJeclaniacion    contra    los   Abusos   de  eltas  ;  —  almost  all   of  them  amusing, 

la  Lengiia  Cit-stellana,"  (Madrid,  1793,  The  enfremrscs  of  Cervantes  are  at  the 

4to,    p.    149,)   says:    "1    never   knew  end  of  his  Comedias,  1615. 

what  the  true  Ca.stilian  idiom  was  till  **  Xovelas,   1783,  Tom.   II.    p.   441. 

1  reafl  enlrcnieses."  "  Coloijuio  de  los  ferros." 

*^  The   origin    of  cniremescs  is   dis- 


CiiAr.  XXVI.]  SAYNETES. DANCES.  531 

tion  of  the  audience,  which  it  was  supposed  might  have 
been  taxed  too  niucli  by  the  graver  action  that  liad 
preceded  theni/'^  With  this  action  they  had,  properly, 
nothing  to  do  ;  —  though  in  one  instance  Calderon  has 
ingeniously  made  his  cntrcmes  serve  as  a  graceful  con- 
chision  to  one  of  the  acts  of  the  principal  drama.^^ 

The  second  act  was  followed  by  a  similar  eiitrcmcSy 
music,  and  dancing  ;^^  and  after  the  third,  the  poetical 
part  of  the  entertainment  was  ended  with  a  m//nele  or 
homie  houche,  first  so  called  by  Benavente,  but  differing 
from  the  entremeses  only  in  name,  and  written  best  by 
Cancer,  Deza  y  Avila,  and  Benavente  himself,  —  in 
short,  by  those  who  best  succeeded  in  the  entreme- 
ses!^ Last  of  all  came  a  national  dance,  which 
*  never  failed  to  delio-ht  the  audience  of  all  *' 451 
classes,  and  served  to  send  them  home  in  good- 
humor  when  the  entertainment  was  over.^^ 

Dancing,  indeed,  was  very  early  an  important  part 
of  theatrical  exhibitions  in  Spain,  even  of  the  religious, 
and  its  importance  has  continued  down  to  the  present 
day.  This  was  natural.  From  the  first  intimations  of 
history  and  tradition  in  antiquity,  dancing  was  the 
ffivorite  amusement  of  the  rude  inhabitants  of  the 
country ;  ^^  and,  so  far  as  modern  times  are  concerned, 

51  A  good  many  are  to  be  found  in  1663  ;  and  those  of  Benavente,  in  his 
the  "  Joco-Seria  "  of  Quinones  de  Beua-  "  Joco-Seria,"  1653.  The  volume  of 
vente.  Deza  y  Avila  —  marked  Vol.   I.,  but  I 

52  <<gi  Castillo  de  Lindabridis,"  end  think  the  only  one  that  ever  appeared 
of  Act  I.  There  is  an  eufremes  called  — is  almost  filled  with  light,  short 
"The  Cliestnut  Girl,"  very  amusing  as  compositions  for  the  theatre,  under  the 
far  as  the  spirited  dialogue  is  concerned,  name  of  bayles,  entremeses,  saynctes,  and 
but  immoral  enough  in  the  story,  to  be  motjigangas ;  the  last  being  a  sort  of 
found  in  Chap.  15  of  the  "  Bachiller  m.imnming.  Some  of  them  are  good  ; 
Trapaza."  all  are  characteristic  of  the  state  of  the 

5^  Mad.  d'Aulnoy,  Tom.  I.  p.  56.  theatre  in  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth 

5*  C.    Pellicer,    Origen,   Tom.    I.    p.  century. 

277.     The  entremeses  of  Cancer  are  to  55  ai  fin  con  un  baylezito 

found  in  his  Obras,  Madrid,  1761,  4to  ;  Iba  la  gente  contenta 

and  among  the  Autos,  etc.,   1655,  re-  Koxas,  Viage,1614,  f  48. 

ferred  to  in  note  44  ;  —  those  of  Deza  y  ^  The  Gaditance puellce  wen^  the  most 

Avila,  in  his  "Donayi'es  de  Tersicore,"  famous  j  but  see,  ou  the  whole  subject 


532  DANCES.  [I'KUK.u  II. 

dancing  has  been  to  Spain  what  music  has  been  to 
Italy,  a  passion  with  the  whole  population.  In  conse- 
quence of  this,  it  finds  a  place  in  the  dramas  of  Enzina, 
Vicente,  and  Naharro  ;  and,  from  the  time  of  Lope  de 
Rueda  and  Lope  de  Vega,  appears  in  some  part,  and 
often  in  several  parts,  of  all  theatrical  exhibitions.  An 
amusing  instance  of  the  slight  grounds  on  which  it  was 
introduced  may  be  found  in  "  The  Gran  Sultana "  of 
Cervantes,  where  one  of  the  actors  says,  — 

There  ne'er  \v;is  lioni  a  Spanish  woman  yet 
But  she  was  born  to  dance  ; 

and  a  specimen  is  immediately  given  in  proof  of  the 
assertion.^' 

Many  of  these  dances,  and  probably  nearly  all  of 
them-,  that  were  introduced  on  the  stao-e,  were  accom- 
panied    with   words,  and  were  what    Cervantes    calls 

'•  recited  dances."  °^     Such  were  the  well-known 
*  452    '•  Xacaras,"  —  *  roisterintr  ballads,  in  the  dialect 

of  the  rogues, —  which  took  their  name  from 

of  the  old  Si)anish  dances,  the  notes  to  a  lover  of  dancing,  and  sometimes  uses 

.Juvenal,  b\-  Ruperti,  Lipsise,  1801,  8vo,  happy  phrases  about  it.     "Danza  como 

Sat.  XI.  vv.  162-164,  and  the  curious  el  pensamiento,"  he  says  of  a  charming 

di.scussion  by  Salas,  "Nueva  Idea  de  la  little  girl  in  Don  Quixote,  Parte  II.  c. 

Tragedia  Antigua,"  1633,  pp.  127,  128.  48.     See  also  the  "Gitanilla"  in  sev- 

Giftbrd,  in  his  remarks  on  the  passage  eral  places. 

in  Juvenal,  (Satires  of  Deeimus  .Junius  ^^  "DauzasJmbladas"  isthe.  singalair 
.Juvenalis,  rhiladel])hia,  1803,  8vo,  Vol.  phrase  applied  to  a  pantomime  with 
II.,  p.  159,)  thinks  that  it  refers  to  singing  and  dancing  in  Don  Quixote, 
"neither  more  nor  less  than  the  /a7i-  Parte  II.  c.  20.  Tlie  bai/lcs  of  Fonseca, 
drtnyo,  which  still  fomis  the  delight  of  referred  to  in  a  preceding  note  (45),  are 
all  ranks  in  Spain,"  and  that  in  the  a  fair  specimen  of  the  singing  and  dan- 
phrase  " tcxf.arum  crepitus"  he  hears  cing  on  the  Sjianish  stage  in  the  middle 
"the  clicking  of  the  castanets,  which  of  the  seventeenth  century.  One  of 
accompanies  the  dance."  them  is  an  allegorical  contest  between 
^"  .Jornada  III.  lOverj'body  danced.  Love  and  Fortune  ;  anotlier,  a  discus- 
The  Duke  of  Lerma  was  said  to  be  the  sion  on  .lealousy  ;  and  the  third,  a  woo- 
he.st  dancer  of  his  time,  being  premier  ing  by  Peter  C'rane,  a  peasant,  earned 
to  Philiji  IV.,  and  afterwards  a  cardi-  on  by  shaking  a  pur.se  before  the  dam- 
nal.  (Don  Quixote,  ed.  Clemencin,  sel  he  would  win; — all  three  in  the 
Tom.  VI.,  1839,  p.  272.)  Philip  IV.,  ballad  measure,  and  none  of  them  ex- 
the  Duke's  master,  too,  is  said  to  have  tending  beyond  a  hundred  and  twenty 
been  an  extraordinary  dancer.  See  Dis-  line.s,  or  pos.sessing  any  merit  but  a  few 
cursos  solire  el  Arte  del  Danzado,  by  jests.  Renjifo  says  (ed.  1727,  p.  175) 
Juan  Oomez  de  Bias,  12mo,  1642,  cited  that  the  bayhs  were  always  short  and 
by  Gayangos.     Cervantes  was  evidently  merry. 


Chap.  XXVI.]  DANCES.  533 

the  bullies  who  .sung  them,  and  were  at  one  time  rivals 
for  favor  with  the  regular  entremeses^^  Such,  too,  were 
the  more  famous  "  Zarabandas  " ;  graceful,  but  volup- 
tuous dances,  that  were  known  from  about  1588,  and, 
as  Mariana  says,  received  their  name  from  a  devil  in 
woman's  shape  at  Seville,  though  elsewhere  they  are 
said  to  have  derived  it  from  a  similar  personage  found 
at  Guayaquil  in  America.*^*^  Another  dance,  full  of 
mad  revelry,  in  which  the  audience  were  ready  some- 
times to  join,  was  called  "  Alemana,"  probably  from  its 
German  origin,  and  was  one  of  those  whose  discon- 
tinuance Lope,  himself  a  great  lover  of  dancing,  always 
regretted.''^  Another  was  "  Don  Alonso  el  Bueno,"  so 
named  from  the  ballad  that  accompanied  it ;  and  yet 
others  w^ere  called  "•  El  Caballero,"  "  La  Carreteria," 
"Las  Gambetas,"  "  Hermano  Bartolo,"  and  "LaZapa- 
teta."  '^ 

Most  of  them  were  free  or  licentious  in  their  ten- 
dency. Guevara  says  that  the  Devil  invented  them 
all ;   and  Cervantes,  in  one  of  his  farces,  admits  that 

^^  Some  of  them  are  very  brutal,  like  136-138.)  Lopez  Pinciano,  in  hi.s 
one  at  the  end  of  "Crates  y  Hippar-  "  Filosofia  Antigua  Poetica,"  1596,  pp. 
chia,"  Madrid,  1636,  12mo  ;  one  in  the  418-420,  partly  describes  the  zara- 
"  Enano  de  las  Musas"  ;  and  several  banda,  and  expresses  his  great  disgust 
in  the  "  Ingeniosa  Helena."  The  best  at  its  indecency  ;  and  in  the  Preface  to 
are  in  Quifiones  de  Benavente,  "  Joco-  Florando  de  Castilla,  1588,  (.see  post, 
Seria,"  1653,  and  Solis,  "Poesias,"  Chap.  XXVII.,  note,)  a  book  is  cited, 
1716.  There  was  originally  a  distinc-  called  "  La  Vida  de  la  ^arabanda,  ra- 
tion between  bayles  and  danzas,  now  mera  publica  de  Guaiacan.  Even  the 
no  longer  recognized ;  —  the  danzas  be-  author  of  the  spurious  Second  Part  of 
Ing  graver  and  more  decent.  See  a  note  theGuzmandeAlfarache(Lib.  III.  cap.  7) 
of  Pellicer  to  Don  Quixote,  Parte  II.  is  .shocked  at  its  voluptuous  coarseness. 
c.  48  ;  partly  discredited  by  one  of  Cle-  ''i  Dorotea,  Acto  I.  .sc.  8. 
mencin  on  the  same  passage.  ^-  Other  names  of  dances  are  to  be 

^•^  Covarrubias,  ad  verbuin  Qaraban-  found  in  the  "  Diablo  Cojuelo,"  Tranco 
da.  Pellicer,  Don  Quixote,  1797,  Tom.  I.,  where  all  of  them  are  represented  as 
I.  pp.  cliii-clvi,  and  Tom.  V.  p.  102.  inventions  of  the^ Devil  on  Two  Sticks  ; 
There  is  a  list  of  many  ballads  that  were  but  these  are  the  chief.  See,  also,  Co- 
sung  with  the  zarabandas  in  a  curious  varrubias.  Art.  Zapata.  Figueroa,  who 
satire  entitled  "The  Life  and  Death  of  published  his  Plaga  Universal  in  1615, 
La  Zarabanda,  Wife  of  Anton  Pintado,"  is  equally  severe  on  all  public  dancing, 
1603  ;  —  the  ballads  being  given  as  a  and,  after  abusing  it  tlirough  two  pages, 
bequest  of  the  deceased  lady.  (C.  Pel-  ends  thus:  "En  suma  es  un  cxercicio 
licer,    Origen,    Tom.    I.   pp.    129-131,  hallado  por  el  Demonio."    f.  200,  b. 


534  POPULAR  CIIAFlACTER  of  the  DRA3IA.      [Pekiod  IL 

the  Zarabanda,  which  was  the  most  obnoxious 
*  453    to  censure,  could,  indeed,  *  have  had  no  better 

origin  .*^^  He,  however,  was  not  so  severe  in  his 
judgment  on  others.  He  declares  that  the  dances  ac- 
companied ])}'  singing  were  better  than  the  enircmeses, 
which,  he  adds  disparagingly,  dealt  only  in  hungry 
men.  thieves,  and  brawlers.*^  But  whatever  may  have 
been  individual  opinions  about  them,  they  occasioned 
great  scandal,  and,  in  1621,  kept  their  place  on  the 
theatre  onh'  by  a  vigorous  exertion  of  the  j^opular  will 
in  opposition  to  the  will  of  the  government.  As  it 
was,  they  were  for  a  time  restrained  and  modified  ;  but 
still  no  one  of  them  was  absolutely  exiled,  except  the 
licentious  Zarabanda,  —  many  of  the  crowds  that 
throno:ed  the  court-yards  thinkins:,  with  one  of  their 
leaders,  that  the  dances  were  the  salt  of  the  plays,  and 
that  the  theatre  would  be  o;ood  for  nothing:  without 
them.^' 

Indeed,  in  all  its  foims,  and  in  all  its  subsidiary 
attractions  of  ballads,  entremeses  and  saynetes,  music, 
and  dancing,  the  old  Spanish  drama  was  essentially 
a  popular  entertainment,  governed  by  the  popular 
will.  In  any  other  country,  under  the  same  circum- 
stances, it  would  hardh'  have  risen  above  the  con- 
dition in  which  it  was  left  b}-  Lope  de  Rueda,  when 
it  was  the  amusement  of  the  lowest  classes  of  the 
•populace.  But  the  Spaniards  have  always  been  a 
poetical  people.  There  is  a  romance  in  their  early 
history,  and  a  picturesqueness  in  their  very  costume 
and  manners,  that  cannot  be  mistaken.  A  deep  en- 
thusiasm runs,  like   a  vein  of  pure   and   rich   ore,  at 

^  Cuevas  de  Salamanca.     There  Ls  a  the   "Ocios  de  Igiiacio  Alvarez  Pelli- 

lurioiLs  bdiiU  cntrcmeJiotlo  of  Moreto,  on  cer,"  s.  1.  1685,  4to,  p.  51. 

the   .subject   of  Don    Rodrigo  and   La  ®*  Seethe  "Gran Sultana,"  a.s already 

Cava,  in  the  Autos,  etc.,   \*'tM,  f.  92  ;  cited,  note  57. 

and  another,  called  "El  Medico,"  in  **  C.  Pellicer,  Origen,  Tom.  L  j).  102. 


I'll Ai'.  XX VI. J    ^U.MEEK    OF    DRAMATIC    AUTHORS.     "  535 

the  bottom  of  their  character,  and  the  workings  of 
strong  passions  and  an  original  imagination  are  every- 
where visible  among  the  wild  elements  that  break  out 
on  its  surftice.  The  same  energy,  the  same  Ifincy,  the 
same  excited  feelings,  which,  in  the  fourteenth,  fif- 
teenth, and  sixteenth  centuries,  produced  the  most 
various  and  rich  popular  balkads  of  modern  times,  were 
not  yet  stilled  or  quenched  in  the  seventeenth.  The 
same  national  character,  which,  under  Saint  Fer- 
dinand *  and  his  successors,  drove  the  Moorish  *  454 
crescent  through  the  plains  of  Andalusia,  and 
found  utterance  for  its  exultation  in  poetry  of  such  re- 
markable sweetness  and  power,  was  still  active  under 
the  Philips,  and  called  forth,  directed,  and  controlled  a 
dramatic  literature  which  grew  out  of  the  national 
genius  and  the  condition  of  the  mass  of  the  people,  and 
which,  therefore,  in  all  its  forms  and  varieties,  is  essen- 
tially and  peculiarly  Spanish. 

Under  an  imj)ulse  so  wide  and  deep,  the  number  of 
dramatic  authors  w^ould  naturally  be  great.  As  early 
as  1(305,  when  the  theatre,  such  as  it  had  been  consti- 
tuted by  Lope  de  Vega,  had  existed  hardly  more  than 
fifteen  years,  we  can  easily  see,  by  the  discussions  in 
the  first  part  of  Don  Quixote,  that  it  already  filled  a 
large  space  in  the  interests  of  the  time  ;  and  from  the 
Prologo  prefixed  by  Cervantes  to  his  plays  in  1615,  it 
is  quite  plain  that  its  character  and  success  were  al- 
ready settled,  and  that  no  inconsiderable  number  of  its 
best  authors  had  already  appeared.  Even  as  early  as 
this,  dramas  were  composed  in  the  lower  classes  of 
society.  Villegas  tells  us  of  a  tailor  of  Toledo  who 
wrote  many ;  Guevara  gives  a  similar  account  of  a 
sheep-shearer  at  Ecija  ;  and  Figueroa,  of  a  well-known 
tradesman  of  Seville  ;  —  all  in  full  accordance  with  the 


536 


TIIEIK    rOPULAK    TONE. 


[Pekiod  TI. 


representations  made  in  Don  Quixote  concerning  the 
.shepherd  Chrisostomo,  and  the  whole  current  of  the 
.story  and  conversations  of  the  actors  in  tlie  ••  Journey  " 
of  Roxas.*'*'  In  this  state  of  things,  the  number  of 
Avriters  for  the  theatre  went  on  increasing  out  of  all 
proportion  to  their  increase  in  other  countries,  as  ap- 
pears from  the  lists  given  In*  Lope  de  "W^u-m.  in  1630; 
by  Montalvan,  in  1632.  when  we  find  seventy-six  dra- 
matic poets  living  in  Castile  alone  ;  and  by  Antonio, 
about  1660.  During  the  whole  of  this  century,  there- 
fore, we  may  regard  the  theatre  as  a  part  of  the  pop- 
ular character  in  Spain,  and  as  having  become,  in  the 
proper  sense  of  the  word,  more  truly  a  national  the- 
atre than  any  other  that  has  been  produced  in  modern 

times.''' 
*  455         *It  might  naturally  have  been  foreseen,  that, 

upon  a  movement  like  this,  imparted  and  sus- 
tained by  all  the  force  of  the  national  genius,  any  acci- 
dents of  patronage  or  opposition  would  produce  little 
effect.  And  so  in  fact  it  proved.  The  ecclesiastical 
authorities    always   frowned   upon    it,   and    sometimes 


^  Figiieroa,  Pasagero,  1617,  f.  105. 
Vilk-gas,  Eroticas  Najera,  1617,  4to, 
Tum.  II.  p.  29.  Diablo  Cojuelo,  Tian- 
co  V.  Figueroa,  Plaza  Uuiversal,  Ma- 
drid, 1733,  folio,  Discurso  91,  fir.st 
jniuted   161.5. 

*'  Two  facts  may  be  mentioned  as 
illustrations  of  the  pa.ssion  of  Spaniards 
for  tlieir  national  drama. 

The  first  is,  that  the  wretched  eaj)- 
tives  on  the  coast  of  Barbary  .sola(-ed 
themselves  with  it  in  those  vast  JJciios 
Avhich  were  their  prison-houses  at  night. 
One  instance  of  this  we  have  noticed  as 
♦•arly  as  l.")7.''),  when  Ceivaute.s  was  in 
Algit-i>i  (fiii/^-.  Chap.  XI.).  Another  is 
iiotici'd  as  having  oci-urred  in  ir»89  (.see 
(Jalle.go,  "(■riti<<jn "  No.  IV.,  1835, 
p.  43).  And  another  shows  that,  in 
1646,  they  mu.st  have  bi-en  of  freijuent 
■occurrence  at  Tuni.s,  for  tlie  Moorish 
jirince  already  leferred  to  (Chap.  XVII. 
•jiotc  30)  had  been  pre.ient,  as  if  it  were 


nothing  remarkable,  at  the  representa- 
tion of  such  a  Spanish  play  the  night 
before  he  escaped.  Indeed,  I  have  no 
doubt  that  the  acting  of  Spanish  plays 
both  at  Algiei-s  and  Tunis  was  a  common 
.solace  of  the  Christian  captives  there. 

The  other  fact  Ls,  that  so  many  dra- 
mas were  written  by  persons  in  the 
o|)posite  or  higher  classes  of  society. 
Perhaps  the  most  anmsing  instance  of 
this  indulgence  is  to  be  found  in  the 
ca.se  of  the  Duque  de  Estrada,  who 
lived  from  1589  to  about  1650,  and 
who  .say.s,  in  his  autobiography,  that, 
during  his  exile,  he  wrote  a  considera- 
ble numlx'r  of  plays,  si.\  on  Iii.'f  own  ad- 
ventures;—  .so  tnie  was  it  that  every- 
body from  tailors  to  princes  wrote  plays 
upon  all  .sorts  of  subjects,  from  the 
most  .solemn  in  the  Scriptures  down  to 
the  most  frivolous  in  their  own  lives. 
Memorial  Historico,  Tom.  XII.,  Ma- 
drid,   1860,   p.    504. 


Chap.  XXVI.]  TIIEIK    POPULAR    TONE.  537 

placed  themselves  so  as  directly  to  resist  its  progress ; 
})ut  its  sway  and  impulse  were  so  heavy,  that  it  passed 
over  their  opposition,  in  every  instance,  as  over  a  slight 
obstacle.  Nor  was  it  more  affected  by  the  seductions 
of  patronage.  Philip  the  Fourth,  for  above  forty  years, 
favored  and  supported  it  with  princely  munificence. 
lie  built  splendid  saloons  for  it  in  his  palaces  ;  he 
-wrote  for  it;  he  acted  in  improvisated  dramas.  The 
reigning  favorite,  the  Count  Duke  Olivares,  to  flatter 
the  royal  taste,  invented  new  dramatic  luxuries,  such 
as  that  of  magnificent  floating  theatres,  constructed  by 
Cosme  Lotti,  on  the  sheets  of  water  in  the  gardens  of 
the  Buen  Retiro.^"^^  All  royal  entertainments  seemed 
in  fact,  for  a  time,  to  take  a  dramatic  tone,'  or  tend  to 
it.  But  still  the  popular  character  of  the  theatre  it- 
self was  unchecked  and  nnaffected  ;  —  still  the  plays 
acted  in  the  royal  residences,  before  the  principal 
persons  in  the  kingdom,  were  the  same  with  those 
performed  before  the  populace  in  the  court-yards  of 
Madrid ;  —  and  wdien  other  times  and  other  princes 
came,  the  old  Spanish  drama  left  the  halls  and  palaces, 
where  it  had  been  so  long  flattered,  with  as 
little  of  a  *  courtly  air  as  that  with  whicli  it  *  456 
had  originally  entered  them.*"^ 

^""i  Something  of  the  same  soit  had  T  have  seen  only  a  very  slight  notice  — 

lieen  done  in  the  preceding  reign,  when  may  have  occurred.     C.  Pellicer,  Teatro^ 

the  Duke  de   Lerma  caused  a  fioating  Tojn.  II.  p.  135. 

stage  to  he  erected  on  the  Tormes,  and  ''^  Mad.    d'Aulnoy,    fresh    from    the 

liad  the  "Casa  Confusa"  of  his  son-in-  stage  of  Racine  an(l  Moliere,  then  the 

law,  the  Conde  de  Lemo.s,  acted  on  it  mo.st    refined    and    hest    appointed    in 

in  presence  of  Philip  III.,  whose 7?rtyrt.(Zo  Europe,    speaks  with  great  admiration 

the  Duke  de  Lerma  then  was.      But  the  of  the  theatres  in  the  Spanish  palaces,, 

mad  folly  of  the  Conde  Duque  de  Oli-  though  she  ridicules  those  granted  to- 

vares  on  the  Welters  of  the  Buen  Retiro,  the  public.      (Voyage,   etc.,   ed.    1693,, 

<;arried  out  as  it  was  by  the  curious  in-  Tom.   III.   p.   7,  and  elsewhere.)     But 

veutions  o/ the  Florentine  architect,  un-  ]SIad.  de  Villars,   French  Ambassadres.s. 

doubtedly   surpassed    in   wasteful   «nd  at  the  same  jjeriod,  who  says  that  she 

fantastic    extravagance    anything    that  went   often  with    tlie  Queen    to   these 

could  have  been    undertaken   at   Sala-  ])alatial    representations,    gives   a  very 

nianca,  or  wherever  else  on  the  Tormes  dilferent  account  of  tln;m.     "Rien  n'est 

this   whimsical    exhibition  —  of  which  si  detestaule,"  she   says   in   one  of  her 


538  GREAT    NUMBER    OF    DRAMAS.  [Peimod  II. 

The  same  InipuLse  that  made  it  so  powerful  in  other 
respects  filled  the  old  Spanish  theatre  with  an  almost 
incredible  number  of  cavalier  and  heroic  dramas,  dra- 
mas for  saints,  sacramental  anios,  entrcmeses,  and  farces 
of  all  names.  Their  whole  amount,  at  the  beginning 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  has  been  estimated  to  ex- 
ceed thirty  thousand,  of  which  four  thousand  eight 
hundred  by  unknown  authors  had  been,  at  one  time, 
collected  by  a  single  person  in  Madrid.'-^  Their  char- 
acter and  merit  were,  as  we  have  seen,  very  various. 
Still,  the  circumstance  that  they  vrere  all  written  sub- 
stantially for  one  o))ject  and  under  one  system  of 
opinions  gave  them  a  stronger  air  of  general  resem- 
blance than  might  otherwise  have  been  anticipated. 
Por  it  should  never  be  forgotten,  that  the  Spanish 
drama  in  its  highest  and  most  heroic  forms  was  still 
a  popular  entertainment,  just  as  it  was  in  its  farces 
and  ballads.  Its  purpose  was,  not  only  to  please  all 
classes,  but  to  please  all  equally ;  —  those  who  paid 
three  maravedis,  and  stood  crowded  together  under  a 
hot  sun  in  the  court-yard,  as  well  as  the  rank  and 
fashion,  that  lounged  in  their  costly  apartments  above, 
and  amused  themselves  hardly  less  with  the  motley 
.scene  of  the  audiences  in  the  patio  than  with  that 
of  the  actors  on  the  stage.™     Whether  the  story  this 

letters;  and  in  anotlicr,  dated  Marcli,  III.  8vo,  pp.  22-24;  a  work  of  gieat 

1680,  giving  an  account  of  a  play  thus  value. 

acted  at  noonday,  she  says  "  L'on  y  "'^  These  rooms  and  halconies,  from 
mouroit  de  froid."  (Lettres,  ed.  1760,  which  the  favored  and  rich  witnessed 
pp.  79  and  81.)  One  way,  however,  in  the  plays  as  they  were  acted,  seem  early 
■which  the  kings  ])atrt»nized  the  drama  to  have  been  fitted  up  in  a  costly  man- 
was,  probably,  not  verj'  agreeable  to  ner.  Antonio  Perez,  whose  troubles 
the  authors,  if  it  weni  often  practised;  l)egan  in  l.'>79, — that  is,  befoi-e  thi- 
I  mean  that  of  requiring  a  jnece  to  be  theatre  came  into  the  hands  of  Lope 
acted  nowhere  but  in  the  royal  pres-  de  Vega,  —  had  a  "palco"  which  was 
<'nce.  This  was  tlie  case  with  Gero-  fitted  up-with  tapestries,  and  cost  him 
nimo  de  Villa)'zan's  "Sufrir  mas  por  "treinta  rcalcs  diarios,"  —  this  luxury 
querer  mas."  Comedias  por  Difei-entes  being  thought  of  consequence  enough 
Autores,  Tom.  XXV.,  Zaragoza,  1633,  to  W  entered  in  the  inventory  of  his 
f.  145,  1>.  effects  after  he  liad  In-en  arn-stcd  b)' 
*•'  Schack's  Geschichte  der  dramat.  order  of  Pliilip  II.  —  See  jMst,  Chap. 
Lit.    in   Siwnicu,    l'.<-rlin,   184G,   Tom.  XXXVII. 


Chai'.  XXVI.]  COSTUMES.  539 

mass  of  people  saw  enacted  were  probable  or  not,  was 
to  them  a  matter  of  small  consequence.  But  it 
was  necessary  *  that  it  sliould  be  interesting.  *  457 
Above  all,  it  was  necessary  that  it  should  be 
Spanish  ;  and  therefore,  though  its  subject  might  be 
Greek  or  Roman,  Oriental  or  mythological,  the  char- 
acters represented  were  always  Castilian,  and  Castilian 
after  the  fashion  of  the  seventeenth  century,  —  gov- 
erned by  Castilian  notions  of  gallantry  and  the  Cas- 
tilian point  of  honor. 

It  was  the  same  with  their  costumes.  Coriolanus 
was  dressed  like  Don  John  of  Austi'ia  ;  Ai-istotle  came 
on  the  stage  with  a  curled  periwig  and  buckles  in  his 
shoes,  like  a  Spanish  Abbe ;  and  Madame  d'Aulnoy 
says,  the  Devil  she  saw  Avas  dressed  like  any  other 
Castilian  gentleman,  except  that  his  stockings  were 
flame-colored  and  he  wore  horns.'^  But  however  the 
actors  might  be  dressed,  or  however  the  play  might 
confound  geography  and  history,  or  degrade  heroism 
by  caricature,  still,  in  a  great  majority  of  cases,  dra- 
matic situations  are  skilfidly  produced ;  the  story,  full 
of  bustle  and  incident,  grows  more  and  more  urgent 
as  it  advances ;  and  the  result  of  the  whole  is,  that, 
though  we  may  sometimes  have  been  much  offended, 
we  are  sorry  we  have  reached  the  conclusion,  and  find 
on  looking  back  that  we  have  almost  always  been 
excited,  and  often  pleased. 

The  Spanish  theatre,  in  many  of  its  attributes  and 
characteristics,  stands,  therefore,  by  itself  It  takes  no 
cognizance  of  ancient  example.;  for  the  spirit  of  an- 
tiquity could  have  little  in  common  with  m;iterials^"so 
modern.  Christian,  and  romantic.  It  borrowed  noth- 
ing from  the  drama  of  France  or  of  Italy ;  for  it  was 

''I  Relation  du  Voj^age  d'Espagiie,  ed.  1693,  Tom.  I.  p.  55. 


540  CHARACTER    OF    THE    DRAMA.  [Period  II. 

in  advance  of  both  when  its  final  character  was  not 
only  developed,  but  settled.  And  as  for  England, 
though  Shakespeare  and  Lope  were  contemporaries, 
and  there  are  points  of  resemblance  between  them 
which  it  is  jDleasant  to  trace  and  difficult  to  explain, 
still  they  and  their  .-^chooN.  undoubtedly,  had  not  the 
least  influence  on  each  other. '^-  The  Spanish  drama  is, 
therefore,  entirely  national.     Many  of  its  best  subjects 

are  "taivFTT  from  the  chronicles  and  traditions 
*  458    fomiliar  to  the  audience  *  that  listened  to  them, 

and  its  prevalent  versification  reminded  the 
hearers,  by  its  sweetness  and  power,  of  what  had  so 
often  moved  their  hearts  in  the  earliest  outpourings 
of  the  national  genius.  With  all  its  faults,  then,  this 
old  Spanish  drama,  founded  on  the  great  traits  of  the 
national  character,  maintained  itself  in  the  popular 
favor  as  long  as  that  character  existed  in  its  original 
attributes ;  and  even  now  it  remains  one  of  the  most 
striking  and  one  of  the  most  interesting  portions  of 
modern  literature. 

■^li  One  reason,  I  suppose,  was  the  speare,  1597.  There  is  a  curious  no- 
hatred  of  the  two  nations  for  each  other  tice  of  Lope's  play  in  Grey's  Notes 
during  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth  and  on  Shakespeare,  1754,  Vol.  II.  pp. 
James,  and  those  of  the  Philips.  Still  249-262,  and  a  translation  of  the 
it  is  odd  and  amusing  to  compare  the  whole  play  of  Lope,  made  with  skill 
"Castelvines  y  Monteses"  of  Lope  de  and  taste  by  F.  W.  Cosens,  4to,  London, 
Vega,  published  1647,  and  the  "Ban-  1869,  printed  at  the  Chiswick  press,  but 
dos  de  Verona"  of  Roxas,  1679,  with  not  published.  Unhappily  the  original 
the    "Romeo    and   Juliet"   of  Shake-  was  not  worth  the  trouble. 


*CHArTEE    XXYII.  *4o9 

HISTORICAL    NARRATIVE     POEMS. SEMPERE. CAPATA. AYLLON. SANZ. 

FERXANDEZ. ESPIXOSA. COLOMA.  —  ERCILLA    AND    HIS    ARAUCAXA,  M'lTII 

OSORIO'S    CONTINUATION. ONA. GABRIEL    LASSO    DE    LA    VEGA. SAAVE- 

DRA. CASTELLANOS. CENTENBRA. VILLAGRA. RELIGIOUS  NARRATIVE 

POEMS. BLASCO. MATA. VIRUES     AND     HIS     MONSERRATE. BRAVO. 

VALDIVIELSO. HOJEDA. DIAZ    AND    OTHERS. IMAGINATIVE    NARRATIVE 

POEMS. ESPINOSA    AND    OTHERS. BARAHONA    DE    SOTO. BALBUENA    AND 

HIS    BERNARDO. 

Epic  j)oetrj,  from  its  general  dignity  and  preten- 
sions, is  almost  uniformly  placed  at  the  head  of  the 
different  divisions  of  a  nation's  literature.  But  in 
Spain,  though  the  series  of  efforts  in  that  direction 
begins  early  and  boldly,  and  has  been  continued  with 
diligence  down  to  our  own  times,  little  has  been 
achieved  that  is  worthy  of  memory.  The  Poem  of  the 
Cid  is,  indeed,  the  oldest  attempt  at  narrative  poetry 
in  the  modern  languages  of  Western  Europe  that  de- 
serves the  name  ;  and,  composed,  as  it  must  have  been, 
above  a  century  before  the  appearance  of  Dante,  and 
two  centuries  before  the  time  of  Chaucer,  it  is  to  be 
regarded  as  one  of  the  most  remarkable  outbreaks 
of  poetical  and  national  enthusiasm  on  record.  But 
the  few"  similar  attempts  that  were  made  at  long  inter- 
vals in  the  periods  immediately  subsequent,  like  those 
we  witness  in  "  The  Chronicle  of  Fernan  Gonzalez,"  in 
"The  Life  of  Alexander,"  and  in  "The  Labyrinth" 
of  Juan  de  Mena,  deserve  to  be  mentioned  cliiefl}^  in 
order  to  mark  the  progress  of  Spanish  culture  during 
the  lapse  of  three  centuries.  No  one  of  them  showed 
the  power  of  the  grand  old  narrative  Poem  of  the  Cid. 


542  HISTORICAL    rOEMS.  [Peuiod  II. 

At  last,  when  we  reach  the  reio-n  of  Charles 
*  460  the  Fifth,  *  or  rather,  when  we  come  to  the 
immediate  results  of  that  reign,  it  seems  as  if 
the  national  genius  had  been  inspired  with  a  poetical 
ambition  no  less  extravagant  than  the  ambition  for 
military  glory  wliich  their  foreign  successes  had  stirred 
up  in  the  masters  of  the  state.  The  poets  of  the  time, 
or  those  wdio  regarded  themselves  as  such,  evidently 
imagined  that  to  them  was  assigned  the  task  of  wor- 
thily celebrating  the  achievements,  in  the  Old  World 
and  in  the  New,  which  had  really  raised  their  country 
to  the  first  place  among  the  powers  of  Europe,  and 
which  it  was  then  thought  not  presumptuous  to  hope 
would  lay  the  foundation  for  a  universal  monarchy. 

In  the  reign  of  Philip  the  Second,  therefore,  we  have 
an  extraordinary  number  of  epic  or  rather  narrative 
poems,  —  in  all  above  twenty,  —  full  of  the  feelings 
which  then  animated  the  nation,  and  devoted  to  sub- 
jects connected  with  Spanish  glory,  both  ancient  and 
recent,  —  poems  in  which  their  authors  endeavored  to 
imitate  the  great  Italian  epics,  already  at  the  height 
of  their  reputation,  and  fondly  believed  they  had 
succeeded.  But  the  works  they  thus  produced,  with 
hardly  more  than  a  single  exception,  belong  oftener 
to  patriotism  than  to  poetry ;  the  best  of  them  being 
so  closel}^  confined  to  matters  of  fact,  that  they  come 
with  nearly  equal  pretensions  into  the  province  of  his- 
tory, while  the  rest  fall  into  a  dull,  chronicling  style, 
which  makes  it  of  little  consequence  under  what  class 
they  may  chance  to  be  arranged. 

The  first  of  these  historical  poems  is  the  "  Carolea  " 
of  Hieronimo  Sempere,  published  in  1560.  and  devoted 
to  the  victories  and  glories  of  Cliarles  the  Fifth,  whose 
name,  in  fact,  it  bears.    The  author  was  a  merchant, — 


€iiAP.  XXVII.]  THE    CAIJLO    FAMOSO.  543 

a  circumstance  strange  in  Spanish  literature, —  and  it 
is  written  in  the  Italian  oftava  rima ;  the  first  part, 
which  consists  of  eleven  cantos,  being  devoted  to  the 
wars  in  Italy,  and  ending  with  the  cajDtivity  of  Francis 
the  First ;  wdiile  the  second,  which  consists  of  nineteen 
more,  contains  the  contest  in  Germany,  the  Emperor's 
visit  to  Flanders,  and  his  coronation  at  Bologna. 
*  The  whole  fills  two  volumes,  and  ends  abruptly  *  461 
with  the  promise  of  another,  devoted  to  the 
capture  of  Tunis ;  a  promise  which,  happily,  was  never 
redeemed.^ 

The  next  narrative  poem  in  the  order  of  time  was 
published  by  Luis  de  Capata,  only  five  years  later.  It 
is  the  "  Carlo  Famoso,"  devoted,  like  the  last,  to  the 
fame  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  and,  like  that,  more  praised 
than  it  deserves  to  be  by  Cervantes,  when  he  places 
both  of  them  among  the  best  poetry  in  Don  Quixote's 
library.  Its  author  declares  that  he  was  thirteen  years 
in  writing  it ;  and  it  fills  fifty  cantos,  comprehending 
above  forty  thousand  lines  in  octave  stanzas.  But 
never  was  poem  avowedly  written  in  a  spirit  so  prosaic. 
It  gives  year  by  year  the  life  of  the  Emperor,  from  1522 
to  his  death  at  Yuste  in  1558 ;  and,  to  prevent  the  pos- 
sibility of  mistake,  the  date  is  placed  at  the  top  of  each 

1  "La  Carolea,"    Valencia,    1560,    2  poem,  in  two  hundred  and  eighty-three 

toni.    12ino.      The    first   volume   ends  octave  stanzas,  apparently  written  about 

with  accounts  of  the  city  of  Valencia,  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  hy 

in  the  course  of  which  he  commemorates  some  unknown  author  of  that  period, 

some  of  its  distinguished  families  and  and  devoted  to  the  glory  of  Francisco 

some  of  its  scholars,  particularly  Luis  Pizarro,   from   the   time  when   he  left 

Vives.     Notices  of  Sempere  are  to  be  Panama,  in   L524,  to  the  fall  of  Ata- 

found  in  Ximeno,  Tom.    I.  p.   135,  in  balipa.     It  was  found  in  the  Imperial 

Fuster,   Tom.    I.    p.    110,    and   in    the  Jiibrary  at  Vienna,   among  the  mami- 

notes   to    Polo's    "Diana,"    by   Cerda,  scripts  there,  but  it  seems  to  have  been 

p.   380.  edited  with  very  little  critical  care.      It 

A  poem   entitled    "  Conquista  de   la  does  not,   however,   deserve  more  than 

Nueva  Castilla,"  first  published  at  Paris  it  received.     It  is  wholly  worthless  ;  — 

in  1848,   12mo,  by  J.  A.  Sprecher  de  not  better  than  we  can  easily  suppose 

Bernegg,  may,  perhaps,  be  older  than  to  have  been  written  Ijy  one  of  Pizarro's 

the  "Carolea."     It  is  a  short  narrative  rude  followers. 


544  VARIOUS    IIISTOIUCAL    POEMS.  [Pekk.i.  IF. 

page,  and  eveiytliing  of  an  imaginative  nature  or  of 
doubtful  authority  is  distinguished  by  asterisks  from 
the  chronicle  of  ascertained  facts.  Two  passages  in  it 
are  interesting,  one  of  which  gives  the  circumstances 
of  the  death  of  Garcilasso,  and  the  other  an  ample  ac- 
count of  Torralva,  the  great  magician  of  the  time  of 
Ferdinand  and  Isabella ;  —  the  same  person  who  is  com- 
memorated by  Don  Quixote  when  he  rides  among  the 
stars.  Such,  however,  as  the  poem  is,  Capata  had  great 
confidence  in  its  merits,  and  boastfull}'  iniblished  it  at 
his  own  expense.    But  it  was  unsuccessful,  and  he  died 

reucrettino;  his  follv.^ 
*  462        *  Diego  Ximenez  de  Ajllon,  of  Arcos  de  la 

Frontera,  who  served  as  a  soldier  under  the 
Duke  of  Alva,  wrote  a  poem  on  the  history  of  the  Cid, 
and  dedicated  it.  in  loTO,  to  his  great  leader.  But  this, 
too,  was  little  reo-arded  at  the  time,  and  is  now  hardlv 
remembered.'^  Nor  was  more  fivor  shown  to  Ilippu- 
lito  Sanz,  a  knight  of  the  Order  of  Saint  John,  in  Malta, 
who  shared  in  the  brave  defence  of  that  island  against 
the  Turks  in  1565,  and  wrote  a  poetical  history  of  that 

-  "Carlo   Famoso   de    Don    Luis  de  Alcalade  Henares,  1579,  4to,  149  leaves, 

Capata,"  Valencia,   l.')65,   4to.      At  the  double  columns.      It  is  dedicated  to  the 

opening  of  the  fiftieth  canto,  he  con-  great  Duke  of  Alva,  under  whom  its 

gratulates  himself  that  he  has  "reached  author  had  served,  and  consists  chietly 

the  end  of  his  thirti-i'n  years'  journey  "  ;  of  the  usual  trailitions  about  the  Cid, 

but,  after  all,  is  obliged  to  hurrj'  over  told  in  rather  llowing,  but  insipid,  oc- 

the  last  fourteen  years  of  his  hero's  life  tave  stanzas. 

in  that  one  canto.     For  Garcilasso,  see         In  the  Librar)-  of  the  Society  of  His- 

Canto  XLI.  ;  and  for  Torralva's  story,  torj-  at  Madrid,   MS.  D.   No.  42,  is  a 

which  strongly  illustrates  the  Spanish  i^oemindonblercdondinasdcarfc  mayor, 

character  of  the  sixteenth  century,  see  by  Fray  fJonzalo  de  Arredondo.  on  the 

Cantos  XXVI II.,  XXX.,   XXXI.,  and  achiev<ni('nts  both  of  tlie  Cid  and  of 

XXXII.,  with  the  notes  of  the  com-  the  Count  Fenian  Gonzalez,  the  merits 

mentators  to   Don    Qui.xote,    Parte  II.  of  each  being  nicely  balanced  in  alter- 

c.  41.     Qapata  ligun'd  as  a  knight,    I  nate  cantos.     It  is  hardly  worth  notice, 

think,  at  the  famous  festinties  of  Bins  except  from  the  circumstance  that   it 

in   1549.     Calvete  <le   Rstrella,   Viage,  was  written  as  early  as  1522,  when  the 

ec,  Anveres,  folio,  1552,  f.  196.  unused  license  of  Charles  V.  to  jirint  it 

^  Antonio    (Bib.    Nov.,   Tom.    I.   p.  was  given.     Fray  Arredondo  is  also  tlie 

323)  gives  the  date  and  title,  and  little  author  of   "  El  Castillo    Inexpugnable 

el.se.     My  copy,  which  is  the  only  one  y  Defensorio  de  la  Fe,"  Burgos,  1528,. 

of  the  poem  known  to  me,  is  printed  at  fol. 


H'um:  XXVII.] 


ALOXSl)    DE    ERCILLA. 


545 


rlef'eiice,  under  the  name  of '•  La  Maltea,"  which  was 
piibhshed  in  1582.^ 

Other  poems  were  produced  during  the  same  period, 
not  unhke  those  we  have  just  noticed  ;  —  such  as  Espi- 
nosa's  continuation  of  the  "  Orhmdo  Fui'ioso,"  which 
is  not  entirel}^  without  merit;  and  "  Tlie  Decade  on 
the  Passion  of  Christ,"  by  Coloma,  which  is  grave  and 
•dignified,  if  nothing  else ;  —  Ijoth  of  them  in  the 
manner  of  the  contemporary  Itahan  heroic  and  nar- 
rative poems.  But  neither  obtained  much  regard 
wh.en  it  first  appeared,  and  neither  of  them  can  now 
be  said  to  be  remembered.  Indeed,  there  is  but  one 
long  poem  of  the  age  of  PhiUp  the  Second,  which 
obtained  an  acknowledged  reputation  from  the  first, 
and  has  preserved  it  ever  since,  both  at  home  and 
abroad  ;  —  I  mean  the  "  Araucana."  ^ 

*  Its  author,  whose  personal  character  is  im-  *  463 
pressed  on  every  part  of  his  poem,  was  Alonso 


*  Ximeiio,  Tom.  1.  p.  179,  and  Velaz- 
i|uez,  Dieze,  p.  385. 

^  Nicolas  cle  E-spincsa's  .second  part 
of  the  "Orlando  Furioso "  i.s  better 
known,  as  there  are  edition.s  of  it  in 
15.55,  1556,  1557,  and  1559,  the  one  of 
1556  being  printed  at  Antwerp  iu  4to. 
■Juan  de  Coloma's  ' '  Decada  de  la  Pa- 
•sion,"  in  ten  book.s,  tcrza  rima,  was 
printed  in  1576,  18ino,  If.  166,  at  Caller 
(Cagliari)  in  Sardinia,  where  its  author 
was  Viceroy,  and  on  which  island  this 
is  said  to  have  been  the  fir.st  book  that 
was  ever  printed.  The  last  statement 
is,  I  suppose,  not  true,  or  the  fact 
would  have  been  set  forth  in  the  li- 
cense to  print  granted  by  Coloma  him- 
self, because  that  license  declares  for- 
mally that  the  Rev.  Nicolas  Canyellas, 
Vicar-General  of  Caller,  had  already, 
with  much  cost  and  toil,  introduced 
printing  into  the  island.  The  manu- 
script is  certified  to  have  been  exam- 
ined and  approved  by  a  commission  of 
Cardinals  at  Rome  ;  —  probably  a  com- 
pliment to  the  high  position  of  the 
author.  The  book,  of  which  I  havt;  a 
copy,  is  neatly  printed  for  the  time. 
VOL.   II.  35 


See,  also,  Rodriguez,  Bib.  Valentina, 
pp.  251,  252,  and  Ximeno,  Tom.  I. 
p.  175.  It  is  praised  by  Cervantes  in 
his  "Galatea,"  and  is  a  sort  of  har- 
mony of  the  Gospels,  not  without  a 
dignified  movement  in  its  action,  and 
interspersed  w-ith  narratives  from  the 
Old  Testament.  The  story  of  St.  Ve- 
ronica, (Lib.  VII.,)  and  the  description 
of  the  Madonna  as  .she  sees  her  son 
surrounded  by  the  rude  crowd  and  as- 
cending Mount  Calvary  under  the  bur- 
den of  his  cross,  ( Lib.  V II  i. , )  are  pas- 
sages of  considerable  merit.  Coloma 
says  he  chose  the  terza  rirtia  "because 
it  is  the  gravest  verse  in  the  language, 
and  the  best  suited  to  any  gi-ave  sub- 
ject." In  a  poem  in  the  same  volume, 
on  the  Resurrection,  he  has,  however, 
taken  the  octave;  rhyme  ;  and  half  a 
century  earlier,  the  fcrza  rim.a  had  been 
rejected  by  Pedro  Fernandez  de  Ville- 
gas,  as  quite  unfitted  for  Castilian  po- 
etry. See  ante,  Vol.  I.  p.  445,  6,  note. 
There  are  poems  by  Coloma  in  the  Can- 
cionero  of  1554,  noticed  ante,  Vol.  L 
p.  393,  note  8. 


546  ALOXSO    DE    EIICILLA.  [Peiuod  IL 

(1e  Ercilla,  third  son  of  a  geiitleiiuin  of  Biscayaii  origin^ 
—  a  proud  circumstance,  to  which  the  poet  himself 
alludes  more  than  once.*'  He  was  born  in  l-')3o,  at 
Madrid,  and  his  fotlier,  a  member  of  the  council  of 
Charles  the  Fifth,  was  able,  from  his  influence  at 
court,  to  have  his  son  educated  as  one  of  the  pages 
of  the  prince  who  was  afterwards  Philip  the  Second, 
and  whom  the  young  Ercilla  accompanied  in  his  jour- 
neys to  different  parts  of  Europe  between  1547  and 
1551.  In  1554,  he  was  with  Philip  in  England,  when 
that  prince  married  Queen  Mary  ; '  and  news  having 
arrived  there,  as  he  tells  us  in  his  poem,  of  an  outbreak 
of  the  natives  in  Chili  which  threatened  to  give  trouble 
to  their  conquerors,  many  noble  Spaniards  then  at  the 
English  court  volunteered,  in  the  old  spirit  of  their 
country,  to  serve  against  the  infidels. 

Among  those  who  presented  themselves  to  join  in 
this  romantic  expedition  was  Ercilla,  then  twentj-- 
*  464  one  years  *  old.  By  permission  of  the  prince, 
he  says,  he  exchanged  his  civil  for  military  ser- 
vice, and  for  the  first  time  girded  on  his  sword  in  ear- 
nest. But  the  beginning  of  the  expedition  was  not 
auspicious.  Aldrete,  a  person  of  military  experience, 
who  was  in  tlie  suite  of  Philip,  and  under  whose  stan- 
dard they  had  embarked  in  the  enterprise,  died  on  the 
way  ;  and   after   their   arrival,  Ercilla   and  his   friends 

®  In  Canto  XXVII.  he  says:  "Behold  Privicro  of  the  "  Flor  do  las  Solenines 

the  rougli  soil  of  ancient  Biscay,  whence  Alegrias  que  se  hizieron  en  la  Impeiial 

it  is   certain   comes   tliat  nohility   now  Ciudad    de    Toledo    por    la    Conversion 

extended  through  the  whole  land;  be-  del  Reyno  de  Iiigleterra."     (4to,  If.  31.) 

liold   Bi-rnieo,  tiie  liead  of  Biscay,  sur-  The  solenniities  and  frolics  of  the  occa- 

rouiided  with  thorn-woods,  and  above  its  sion   are   descrilu-d,    and   the   verses   in 

j)ort  the  old  walls  of  the  liouse  of  Ercilla,  old-fashioned    villancicos    and    flowing 

a  liouse  older  than  the  city  itself.  rcdondillds   are    given,    or   at    least    a 

"  On  this  occasion  there  were  great  part  of  them  ;   for  the  Scgundo   Tra- 

I'ejoicings  in  Sj)ain,  for  it  was  believed  tado  seems  never  to  have  been  printed, 

that  the  English  heresy  was  now  at  an  An  account  of  it  may  be  found  in  the 

end.     At  Toledo,    in    l.^oij,    tlien-  was  Spanish    translation    of    this    History, 

[iiililishfd  l.y  .luan  dd  Aiigiilo,  Traludo  Tom.  111.  pp.  5til,  562. 


OuAi'.  XXVII.]  ALONSO    DE    ERCILLA.  547 

were  sent,  under  the  less  competent  leading  of  a  son 
of  the  viceroy-  of  Peru,  to  achieve  the  subjugation  of 
the  territory  of  Arauco,  —  an  inconsiderable  spot  of 
earth,  bnt  one  which  had  been  so  bravely  defended 
against  the  Spaniards  by  its  inhabitants  as  to  excite 
respect  for  their  heroism  in  many  parts  of  Europe.*^ 
The  contest  was  a  bloody  one ;  for  the  Araucans  were 
desperate  and  the  Sj)aniards  cruel.  Ercilla  went 
through  his  part  of  it  with  honor,  meeting  the  enemy 
in  seven  severe  battles,  and  suffering  still  more  severely 
from  wanderings  in  the  wilderness,  and  from  long  ex- 
posure to  the  harassing  warfare  of  savages. 

Once  he  was  in  greater  danger  from  his  countrymen 
and  from  his  own  fiery  temper  than  he  was,  perhaps, 
at  any  moment  from  the  common  enemy.  In  an  inter- 
val of  the  war,  when  a  public  tournament  was  held  in 
honor  of  the  accession  of  Philip  the  Second  to  the 
throne,  some  cause  of  offence  occurred  during  the 
jousting  between  Ercilla  and  another  of  the  cavaliers. 
The  mimic  fight,  as  had  not  unfrequently  happened  on 
similar  occasions  in  the  mother  country,  was  changed 
into  a  real  one ;  and,  in  the  confusion  tliat  followed,  the 
young  commander,  avIio  presided  at  the  festival,  rashly 
ordered  both  the  principal  offenders  to  be  put  to  death, 
—  a  sentence  which  he  reluctantly  changed  into  im- 
prisonment and  exile,  though  not  until  after  Ercilla  had 
been  actually  placed  on  the  scaffold  for  execution. 

*  When  he  was  released,  he  seems  to   have    *  465 
engaged  in  the  romantic  enterprise  of  hunting 
down    the     cruel    and    savage    adventurer.   Lope    de 

*  "Arauco,"  says  Ercilla,  "is a  small  preface  to  the  plaj'  in  honor  of  the  Mar- 
province,  about  twenty  leagues  long  quis  of  Canete,  1622,  (noticed /?os<,)  says, 
and  twelve  broad,  which  produces  the  when  speaking  of  the  smallness  of  the 
most  warlike  people  in  the  Indies,  and  Araucan  territory :  "Its  soil  is  nourished 
is  therefore  called  The  Unconquered  with  the  bones  of  Spaniards.  Alexan- 
State."  Its  people  are  still  proud  of  der  conquered  the  east  with  fewer  sol- 
their  name.     Luis  de  Belmonte,  in  his  diers  than  Arauco  has  cost  Chili." 


548  THE    ARAUCAXA.  [Period  II. 

Aguirre ;  but  lie  did  not  arrive  in  the  monster's  neigh- 
borhood till  the  moment  when  his  career  of  blood  was 
ended.  From  this  time  we  know  only,  that,  after  suiFer- 
ing  from  a  long  illness,  Ercilla  returned  to  Spain  in  1562, 
at  the  age  of  twentv-nine.  liavino-  been  ein'lit  years  in 
America.  At  first,  his  unsettled  habits  made  him  rest- 
less, and  he  visited  Italy  and  other  parts  of  Europe  ; 
but  in  1570  he  married  a  lady  connected  with  the 
great  family  of  Santa  Cruz,  Doiia  Maria  de  Bazan, 
whom  he  celebrates  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  canto 
of  his  poem.  About  15TG,  he  was  made  gentleman  of 
the  bedchamber  to  the  Emperor  of  Germany,  —  per- 
haps a  merely  titular  office  ;  and  about  1580,  he  was 
again  in  Madrid  and  in  poverty,  complaining  loudly  of 
the  n-eglect  and  ingratitude  of  the  king  whom  he  had 
so  long  served,  and  who  seemed  now  to  have  forgotten 
him.  During  the  latter  part  of  his  life  we  almost  en- 
tirely lose  sight  of  him,  and  know  only  that  he  began 
a  poem  in  honor  of  the  family  of  Santa  Cruz,  and  that 
he  died  as  early  as  1595. 

Ercilla  is  to  be  counted  among  the  many  instances 
in  which  Spanish  poetical  genius  and  heroism  were  one 
feeling.  Pie  wrote  in  the  spirit  in  which  he  fought ; 
and  his  principal  work  is  as  military  as  any  portion  of 
his  adventurous  life.  Its  subject  is  the  very  expe- 
dition against  Arauco  which  occupied  eight  or  nine 
years  of  his  youth ;  and  he  has  simply  called  it  '^  La 
Araucana,"  making  it  a  long  heroic  poem  in  thirty- 
seven  cantos,  which,  with  the  exception  of  two  or  three 
trifles  of  no  value,  is  all  that  remains  of  his  w^orks. 
Fortunately,  it  has  proved  a  sufficient  foundation  for 
his  fame.  But  though  it  is  unquestionably  a  poem 
that  discovers  much  of  the  sensibility  of  genius,  it  has 
o-reat  defects  ;  for  it  was  written  when  the  elements 


Chap.  XXVII.]  THE    AIIAUCAXA.  549 

of  epic  poetiy  were  .singularly  misuiulerstood  in  Spain, 
and  Ercilla,  misled  by  such  models  as  the  "  Carolea  " 
and  "  Carlo  Famoso,"  fell  easily  into  serious  mistakes. 

The  hrst  division  of  the  Aniucana  is,  in  fact, 
a  versified  *  history  of  the  early  part  of  the  *  466 
war.  It  is  geographically  and  statisticall}-  ac- 
curate. It  is  a  poem,  thus  far,  that  should  be  read 
with  a  map,  and  one  whose  connecting  principle  is 
merely  the  succession  of  events.  Of  this  rigid  accu- 
racy he  more  than  once  boasts ;  and,  to  oljserve  it,  he 
begins  with  a  description  of  Arauco  and  its  people, 
amidst  whom  he  lays  his  scene,  and  then  goes  on 
through  fifteen  cantos  of  consecutive  battles,  negotia- 
tions, conspiracies,  and  adventures,  just  as  they  oc- 
curred. He  composed  this  part  of  his  poem,  he  tells 
lis,  in  the  wilderness,  where  he  fought  and  suffered ; 
taking  the  night  to  describe  wdiat  the  day  had  brought 
to  pass,  and  writing  his  verses  on  fragments  of  paper, 
or,  when  these  failed,  on  scraps  of  skins ;  so  that  it  is, 
in  truth,  a  poetical  journal,  in  octave  rhymes,  of  the 
expedition  in  which  he  was  engaged.  These  fifteen 
cantos,  written  between  1555  and  1563,  constitute  the 
first  part,  which  ends  abruptly  in  the  midst  of  a  violent 
tempest,  and  which  was  printed  by  itself  in  1569. 

Ercilla  intimates  that  he  feoon  discovered  such  a  de- 
scription of  successive  events  to  be  monotonous  ;  and 
he  determined  to  intersperse  it  with  incidents  more 
interesting  and  poetical.  In  his  second  part,  therefore, 
which  was  not  printed  till  1578,  we  have,  it  is  true, 
the  same  historical  fidelity  in  the  main  thread  of  the 
narrative,  but  it  is  broken  with  something  like  epic 
machinery  ;  such  as  a  vision  of  Bellona,  in  the  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  cantos,  where  the  poet  Avitnesses 
in  South  America  the  victory  of  Philip  the  Second  at 


550  THE    AKAUCAXA.  [I'ei-.u.u  II. 

Saint  Quentin,  the  day  it  Avas  won  in  France  ;  —  the 
cave  of  the  magician  Fiton.  in  the  twentA'-third  and 
twenty-fourth  cantos,  where  he  sees  the  battle  of  Le- 
panto,  whicli  happened  long  afterwards,  fought  by 
anticipation;^  —  the  romantic  story  of  Tegualda  in 
the  twentieth,  and  that  of  Glaura  in  the  twenty-fourth  : 
so   that,  when  we    come    to    the    end   of  the    second 

part. — wliicli  concludes,  again,  with  needless 
*4G7    *  abruptness,   we    find    that   we    have   enjoyed 

more  poetry  than  we   had  in  the   first,  if  we 
have  made  less  rapid  progress  in  the  history. 

In  the  third  part,  whicli  appeared  in  1590.  we  have 
again  a  continuation  of  the  events  of  the  war,  though 
with  episodes  such  as  that  in  the  thirtA'-second  and 
thirtj'-third  cantos,  —  which  the  poet  strangely  devotes 
to  a  defence,  after  the  manner  of  the  old  Spanish 
chronicles,  of  the  character  of  Queen  Dido  from  the 
imputations  cast  on  it  by  Virgil.  —  and  that  in  the 
thirty-sixth,  in  which  he  pleasantly  gives  us  much  of 
what  little  we  know  concerning  his  own  personal  his- 
tory .^"^  In  the  thirty-seventh  and  last,  he  leaves  all 
his  previous  subjects,  and  discusses  the  right  of  publie 
and  private  war.  and  the  claims  of  Philip  the  Second 
to  the  crown  of  Portugal ;  ending  the  whole  poem,  as 
far  as  he  himself  ended  it.  Avitli  touching  complaints 
of  his  own  miserable  condition  and  disappointed  hopes, 
and  his  determination  to  give  the  rest  of  his  life  to 
penitence  and  devotion. 

This  can  hardly  be  called  an  epic.     It  is  an  historical 

^  Such  visions  were,  at  the  time,  sup-  i"  Tlie  accounts  of  himself  are  chief- 

])0se<l  to  be  common.     Pedro  Nicolas  ly   in    Cantos    XIII.,     XXXVI.,    and 

Factor,  a  painter  who  died  in  1583,  and  XXXVII.  ;    and    besides    the    facts    I 

who  is  remarkable  for  having  been  can-  have  given  in  the  text,  I  find  it  stated 

onized,    claimed    to    have    liad    several  (Seman.  Pintoresco,  1842,   p.  195)  that 

such;  —  among   the   rest   one   of  this  Ercilla  in  1571  received  the  Order  of 

same  liattle  of  Lepanto,  which  he  saw  at  Santiago,  and  in  1578  was  employed  by 

Valeniia  while  it  was  lighting  in  Greece.  Philip  II.  on  an  inconsiderable  mission 

Stirling's  Artists,  Vol.  I.  jip.  3tiS-:j79.  to  Saragossa. 


CiiAi'.  XXVIl.J  THE    AKALX'AXA.  551 

poem,  partly  in  the  manner  of  Silius  Italicus,  yet  seek- 
ing to  imitate  the  sudden  transitions  and  easy  style  of 
the  Italian  masters,  and  struggling  awkwardly  to  incor- 
porate with  different  parts  of  its  structure  some  of  the 
supernatural  machinery  of  Homer  and  Virgil.  But 
this  is  the  unfortunate  side  of  the  work.  In  other 
respects  Ercilla  is  more  successful.  His  descriptive 
powers,  except  in  relation  to  natural  scenery,  are  re- 
markable, and,  whether  devoted  to  battles  or  to  the 
wild  manners  of  the  unfortunate  Indians,  have  not 
been  exceeded  by  any  other  Spanish  poet.  His 
speeches,  too,  are  often  excellent,  especially  the  re- 
markable one  in  the  second  canto,  given  to  Colocolo, 
the  eldest  of  the  Caciques,  where  the  poet  has  been 
willing  to  place  himself  in  direct  rivalship  with  the 
speech  which  Homer,  under  similar  circumstances, 
has  given  to  Ulysses  in  the  first  book  of  the 
Iliad.^^  *And  his  characters,  so  far  as  the  *  468 
Araucan  chiefs  are  concerned,  are  drawn  with 
force  and  distinctness,  and  lead  us  to  sympathize  with 
the  cause  of  the  Indians  rather  than  with  that  of  the 
invading  Spaniards.  Besides  all  this,  his  genius  and 
sensibility  often  break  through,  where  w^e  should  least 
expect  it,  and  his  Castilian  feelings  and  character  still 
oftener ;  the  wdiole  poem  being  pervaded  with  that 
deep  sense  of  loyalty  w^hich  was  always  a  chief  ingre- 
dient in  Spanish  honor  and  heroism,  and  which,  in  Er- 
cilla, seems  never  to  have  been  chilled  by  the  ingrati- 
tude of  the  master  to  w^hom  he  devoted  his  life,  and  to 
whose  glory  he  consecrated  this  poem.^^ 

"  Tlic  great  }iTaise  of  this  speech  by  something  in  earnest  for  its  fame.     (See 

Voltaire,  in  the  Essay  prefixed  to  his  his  Works,    ed.    Beaumarchais,    Paris, 

"Henriade,"  1726,  lirst  made  the  Aran-  1785,    8vo,    Tom.    X.    pp.    394-401.) 

cana  known  beyond  the  Pyrenees  ;  and  But  his  mistakes  are  so  gross  as  to  im- 

if  Voltaire  had  read  the  poem  he  pre-  pair  the  value  of  his  admiration, 

tended  to  criticise,  he  might  have  done  ^^  The  best  edition  of  the  Araucana 


552  OSORIO.  [Periop  II. 

The  Araucana,  tliougli  one  third  lunger  than  the 
Ihad.  is  a  fragment;  but,  as  iar  as  the  war  of  Araiieo 
is  concerned,  it  was  soon  completed  by  the  addition 
of  two  more  parts,  embracing  thirty-three  additional 
cantos,  —  the  work  of  a  poet  by  the  name  of  Osorio, 
who  published  it  in  1597.  Of  its  author,  a  native  of 
Leon,  we  know  only  that  he  describes  himself  to  have 
been  young  when  he  wrote  it,  and  that  in  1598  he 
gave  the  world  another  poem,  on  the  wars  of  the 
knights  of  Malta  and  the  capture  of  Rhodes.  His 
continuation  of  the  Araucana  was  several  times  printed, 
but  has  long  since  ceased  to  be  read.  Its  more  inter- 
esting portions  are  those  in  which  the  poet  relates,  with 
apparent  accuracy,  many  of  the  exploits  of  Ercilla 
among  the  Indians ;  —  the  more  absurd  are  those  in 
which,  under  the  pretext  of  visions  of  Bellona.  an  ac- 
count is  given  of  the  conquest  of  Oran  by  Cardinal 

Ximenes,  and  that  of  Peru  by  the  Pizarros, 
*  469    neither  of  which  has  anything  to  do  with  ^  the 

main  subject  of  the  poem.  Taken  as  a  whole, 
it  is  nearly  as  dull  and  chronicling  as  anything  of  its 
class  that  preceded  it.^'^ 

is  that  of  Sanclia,  Madiiil,  1776,  2  torn,  tion  of  the  Araucana,  by  Diego  de  Sa- 

12mo  ;    and  tho.  most  exact   life  of  its  nistel)an  O.sorio,   of  wliich   I   have  any 

author  is  in  Alvarez  y  Baena,  Tom.  I.  knowledge,  was  printed  witli  the  poem 

1>.   32.      Hayley  jmblished  an   abstract  of  Krcilla  at  Madrid,  1733,  folio.     0.so- 

of  the  poem,  with  bad  translations  of  rio  also  published  "  Primera  y  Segun- 

.some  of  its  l)cst  passages,  in  the  notes  da    Parte   de   las    Guerras    de   Malta  y 

to  his  third  epistle  on  Ejiie  Poetry  (Loii-  Toma  du  Kodas,"  Sladrid,   1599,  8vo, 

<lon,  1782,  4to)  ;  but  there  is  a  better  fl".  297.     But  it  is  not  better  than  the 

and  more  amjile  examination  of  it  in  continuation  of  the  Araucana.      There 

the  "Cai-aktere  der  vornehmsten  Dich-  is  a  co]>y  in  the  Bibliotheque  de  I'Arse- 

ter  aller  Nationen,"  Leipzig,  1793,  Svo,  nal.  Paiis. 

Band  H.  Tlieil  I.  pp.  140  and  349.     As  In  1862  there  was  published  a  poem 

to   th<-   ingratitude   of  Philip   II.    it    is  not  uidikc  tlx-  Araucana  ;   1   mean  the 

not   remarkable.     He  had   no  |>octical  "  Puren    Imlomito."     It    wa.s   contem- 

side  to   his  iharacter.      Paton   tells   us  porary  witli  the  invasion  of  Arauco  and 

he  wa.s   "eneinigo  de  la   jioesia."     See  Puren,   being  a  small  ]»art  of  that  de- 

his   addn'ss   "  Al    Letor"  of  the  Pro-  voted  country;  it  is,   as  was    Ercilla's 

verbios  Morales  de  Alonso  de  Vanos,  poem,   an  account  of  the  Spani.sh  at- 

Baec^a,    Kj]."*.       i'aton    knew    what    he  tempt   to   conquer  it.     The  author  of 

.sai<l.  the  "Puren  Indomito,"  was  Alvarez  de 

'^  Til"-  last  edition  of  the  continua-  Toledo,  a  captain  in  the  expedition  he 


Chai'.  XXVI].] 


OSOKIO. 


But  there  is  one  difficulty  about  l)otli  parts  of  this 
poem,  which  must  have  been  very  olDvious  at  the  time. 
Neither  shows  any  purpose  of  doing  honor  to  the  com- 
mander in  the  war  of  Arauco,  who  was  3^et  a  repre- 
sentative of  the  great  Mendoza  family,  and  a  leading 
personage  at  the  courts  of  Philip  the  Second  and 
Philip  the  Third.  Why  Osorio  should  have  passed 
him  over  so  slightly  is  not  apparent ;  but  Ercilla  was 
evidently  offended  by  the  punishment  inflicted  on 
him  after  the  unfortunate  tournament,  and  took  this 
mode  of  expressing  his  displeasure.^'*     A  poet  of  Chili, 


describes,  and  liis  poem,  extending  to 
tweuty-four  cantos  and  eighteen  hun- 
dred octave  stanzas,  is  as  purely  dry 
narrative  as  a  mere  description  of  facts 
can  make  it.  It  ends  abruptly  in  the 
middle  of  a  stanza.  Being  apparently 
accurate  in  its  dates,  it  has  sometimes 
been  cited  as  a  trustworthy  authority 
in  the  history  of  Chili,  but  it  was  never 
])ublished  until  1862,  when  it  was  print- 
ed from  a  manuscript  in  the  National 
Library  at  Madrid,  by  the  house  of 
P'rank,  in  Paris  and  Leipzig,  as  the 
first  volume  of  a  "  Bibliotheca  Ameri- 
cana, collection  d'ouvrages  inedits  on 
rares,"  —  a  series,  which,  if  it  is  not 
opened  brilliantly,  may,  it  is  hoped,  be 
continued. 

^*  The  injustice,  as  it  was  deemed  by 
many  courtly  persons,  of  Ercilla  to  CJar- 
cia  de  Mendoza,  fourth  ilarquis  of  Ca- 
nete,  who  commanded  the  Spaniards  in 
the  war  of  Arauco,  may  have  been  one 
of  the  reasons  why  the  poet  was  neg- 
":;;cted  by  his  own  government  after  his 
return  to  Spain,  and  was  certainly  a 
subjeut  of  remark  in  the  reigns  of  Philij) 
III.  and  IV.  In  1613,  Christoval  Sua- 
.ez  de  Figueroa,  the  well-known  poet, 
])ublislied  a  life  of  the  Marquis,  and 
dedicated  it  to  the  profligate  Duke  of 
Lerma,  then  the  reigning  favorite.  It 
is  written  with  some  elegance  and  some 
affectation  in  its  style,  but  is  full  of 
flattery  to  the  great  family  of  which  the 
Manjuis  was  a  member  ;  and  when  its 
author  reaches  the  point  of  time  at 
which  Ercilla  was  involved  in  the 
trouble  at  the  tournament,  already 
noticed,  he  says  :   "There  arose  a  dif- 


ference between  Don  .Tuan  d<>  Pineda 
and  Don  Alonso  de  Eicilla,  which  went 
so  far,  that  tliey  drew  their  swords. 
Instantly  a  vast  number  of  weapons 
sprang  from  the  scabbards  of  those  on 
foot,  who,  without  knowing  what  to 
do,  rushed  together  and  made  a  scime 
of  gi'eat  confusion.  A  rumor  was  spread, 
that  it  had  been  done  in  order  to  cause 
a  revolt ;  and  from  some  slight  circum- 
stances it  was  believed  that  the  two 
pretended  combatants  had  ai-ranged  it 
all  beforehand.  Thej'  were  seized  by 
command  of  the  general,  who  ordered 
them  to  be  beheacled,  intending  to  in- 
fuse terror  into  tlie  rest,  and  knowing 
that  severity  is  the  most  effectual  way 
of  insuring  military  obedience.  The 
tumult,  however,  was  appeased  ;  and 
as  it  was  found,  on  incpiiry,  that  the 
whole  attair  was  accidental,  the  sen- 
tence was  revoked.  The  becoming  rigor 
with  Avhich  Don  Alonso  was  treated 
caused  tlie  silence  in  which  he  endeav- 
ored to  bury  the  achievements  of  Don 
Garcia.  He  wrote  the  wars  of  Arauco, 
carrying  them  on  by  a  body  without  a. 
head  ;  —  that  is,  by  an  army,  with  no 
intimation  that  it  had  a  general.  Un- 
grateful for  the  many  favois  he  had 
received  from  the  same  hand,  he  left 
his  nule  sketch  without  the  living  colors 
that  belonged  to  it^  as  if  it  wen;  possi- 
ble to  hide  the  valor,  virtue,  forecast, 
authority,  and  success  of  a  nobleman 
whose  words  and  deeds  always  went 
together  ajid  were  alike;  admiralile. 
But  .so  far  could  passion  prevail,  tliat 
the  ai;count  thus  given  remained  in  thi^ 
minds  of  many  as  if  it  were  an  apocry- 


5-34 


OXA. 


[Peuiod  it. 


*  470  therefore,  Pedro  de  Ona,  attempted,  *  so  for  as 
Ercilla  was  concerned,  to  repair  the  wrong,  and, 
in  1596,  published  his  "  Arauco  Subjugated,"  in  nine- 
teen cantos,  which  he  devoted  expressly  to  the  honor 
of  the  neglected  commander.  Ona's  success  was  incon- 
siderable, but  was  quite  as  much  as  he  deserved.  His 
poem  was  once  reprinted;  but,  though  it  consists  of 
sixteen  thousand  lines,  it  stops  in  the  middle  of  the 
events  it  undertakes  to  record,  and  has  never  been 
finished.  It  contains  consultations  of  the  infernal 
powers,  like  those  in  Tasso,  and  a  love-story,  in  iuii- 
tation  of  the  one  in  Ercilla ;  but  it  is  mainly  historical, 
and  ends  at  last  with  an  account  of  the  capture  of 
^' that  English  pirate,  Richerte  Aquines,"  —  no  doubt 
Sir  Richard  Hawkins,  who  was  taken  in  the  Pacific  in 
1594,  under  circumstances  not  more  unlike  those  which 
Ona  describes  than  might  be  expected  in  a  poetical 
version  of  them  by  a  Spaniard.^^ 


plial  oiip  ;  whereas,  had  it  been  dutifull)' 
written,  its  truth  wouhl  have  stood  au- 
thenticated to  ail.  For,  by  the  consent 
of  all,  the  peisonage  of  whom  the  poet 
ought  to  have  written  w:is  without  fault, 
gentle,  and  of  gi'cat  humanity  ;  and  lie 
Avho  was  sil(>nt  in  his  praise  strove  in 
vain  to  dim  his  glory."  Hechos  de  Don 
Oarcia  de  Mendoza,  por  Chr.  Suarez  de 
Figueroa,  Madrid,  KilS,  4to,  p.  103. 

The  theatre  seemed  especially  anxious 
to  make  up  for  the  deficiencies  of  the 
.greatest  narrative  poet  of  the  country. 
In  1622,  a  play  appeared,  entitled  "Al- 
gunas  Hazauas  de  las  muchas  de  Don 
(Jarcia  Hurtado  de  Mendoza"  ;  a  jioor 
attempt  at  flattery,  which,  on  its  title- 
page,  professes  to  l)e  the  woi-k  of  Luis 
«le  Belmonte,  but,  in  a  .sort  of  table  of 
<'ontents,  is  ascribed  chiefly  to  eight 
other  poets,  among  whom  are  Antonio 
Miiu  de  Mescua,  Luis  Velez  de  Gue- 
vara, and  Guillen  de  (\-istro.  Of  the 
"Arauco  Domado"  of  liOpe  de  Vega, 
printed  in  1629,  and  the  humble  ])lace 
iissigned  in  it  to  Er<;illa,  I  have  spoken, 
ante,  p.  207.  To  the.se  should  be  added 
two  othei-s,  namely,  the  "Governador 


Prudente"  of  Gaspar  de  Avila,  in  'J'om. 
XXI.  of  the  Comedias  Escogidas,  print- 
ed in  1664,  in  which  Don  Garcia  arrives 
first  on  the  scene  of  action  in  Chili,  and 
distingui-shes  his  command  by  acts  of 
wisdom  and  clemency  ;  and  in  Tom. 
XXII. ,  1665,  the  "Espanoles  en  Chili," 
by  Francisco  Gonzalez  de  Bustos,  de- 
voted in  part  to  the  glory  of  Don 
Garcia's  father,  and  ending  with  the 
impjilement  of  Caupolican  and  the  bap- 
tism of  another  of  the  principal  In- 
dians ;  each  as  characteristic  of  the  ag(! 
as  was  the  homage  of  all  to  the  Men- 
dozas. 

15  "Arauco  Domado,  compuesto  por 
el  Licenciado  Pedro  de  Qua,  Natural 
de  los  Infantes  de  Engol  en  Chile,  etc., 
impreso  en  la  Ciudad  de  los  Keye.s," 
(Lima,)  1.596,  12mo,  and  Madrid,  1605. 
Besides  which,  Ona  wrote  a  poem  on 
the  earthquake  at  Lima  in  1599.  An- 
tonio is  wrong  in  suggesting  that  Oha 
was  not  a  native  of  America. 

Gayangos  adds,  that  in  1639  there 
was  printed  at  Seville  a  poem  by  Ofia, 
entitled  "  Ignacio  de  la  Cantabria," 
which  is,  in  fact,  a  mere  life  of  Saint 


Chav.  XXYII.J       lasso  DE  la  VEGA. SAAVEDKA.  OO-J 

But  as  the  marvellous  discoveries  of  the  conquerors 
of  America  continued  to  fill  the  world  with  their  fame, 
and  to  claim  at  home  no  small  part  of  the  interest  that 
had  so  lono-  been  o-iven  to  the  national  achieve- 
ments  in  *  the  Moorish  wars,  it  was  natural  that  *  471 
the  greatest  of  all  the  adventurers,  Hernando 
Cortes,  should  come  in  for  his  share  of  the  poetical 
honors  that  were  lavishly  scattered  on  all  sides.  In 
fact,  as  early  as  1588,  Gabriel  Lasso  de  la  Vega,  a 
young  cavalier  of  Madrid,  stirred  up  by  the  example 
of  Ercilla,  published  a  poem,  entitled  "  The  Valiant 
Cortes,"  wdiich  six  years  later  he  enlarged  and  printed 
anew  under  the  name  of"  La  Mexicana  "  ;  and  in  1599, 
Antonio  de  Saavedra,  a  native  of  Mexico,  published  his 
^'  Lidian  Pilgrim,"  which  contains  a  regular  life  of  Cor- 
tes in  above  sixteen  thousand  lines,  written,  as  the 
author  assures  us,  on  the  ocean,  and  in  seventy  days. 
Both  are  mere  chronicling  histories  ;  but  the  last  is 
not  without  freshness  and  truth,  from  the  circumstance 
that  it  was  the  work  of  one  familiar  with  the  scenes 
he  describes,  and  with  the  manners  of  the  unhappy 
race  of  men  whose  disastrous  fate  he  records.^*^ 

In  the  same  year  with  the  "Valiant  Cortes"  ap- 
peared the  first  volume  of  the  lives  of  some  of  the 
early  discoverers  and  adventurers  in  America,  b}-  Juan 
de  Castellanos,  an  ecclesiastic  of  Tunja  in  the  kingdom 

Ignatius   Loyola,    that    has    no    other  (Hijos  de  Madrid,    Tom.   II.    p.    264.) 

merit  than  facile  octave  verses.      The  "  El  Peregrino  Indiano,  por  Don  Anto- 

"Arauco  Domado"  is  reprinted  in  the  nio  de  Saavedra  Guzman,  Viznieto  del 

Bibliotecaof  Rivadenejaa,  Tom.  XXIX.,  Conde  del  Castellar,  nacido  en  Mexico," 

and   there  is  a  notice  of  Ona  in  the  Madrid,  1599,  12mo.     It  is  in  twenty 

Preface    to    that   volume,    1854.       He  cantos  of  octave  stanzas  ;  and  though 

wrote  his  Arauco  at  Lima.  we  know  nothing  else  of  its  author,  we 

1^  "  Cortes  Valeroso,  por  Gabriel  Las-  know,  by  the  laudatory  verses  prefixed 

so  de  la  Vega,"  Madrid,  1588,  4to,  and  to  liis   poem,   that  Lope  ile  Vega  and 

"La    Mexicana,"    Madrid,    1594,    8vo.  Vicente  Esjiiilel  were  among  his  friends. 

Tragedies  said  to  be  much  like  those  of  It  brings  the  story  of  (fortes  down  to 

Virues,  and  other  works,  which  I  have  the  death  of  Guatimozin. 
not  seen,  are  also  attributed  to  him. 


556  CASTELLAXOS. CENTEXEKA.  [rEitiui>  IL 

of  New  Granada ;  but  one  wlio,  like  many  others  that 
entered  the  Church  m  their  old  age,  had  been  a  soldier 
in  his  youth,  and  had  visited  many  of  the  countries, 
and  shared  in  many  of  the  battles,  he  describes.  It 
l^eo'ins  with  an  account  of  Columbus,  and  ends,  about 
156(1.  with  the  expedition  of  Orsua  and  the  crimes  of 
Ao-uirre,  which  Humboldt  has  called  the  most  dramatic 
episode  in  the  history  of  the  Spanish  conquests,  and  of 
which  Southey  has  made  an  interesting,  though  pain- 
ful story.  Why  no  more  of  the  poem  of  Castellanos 
was  published  does  not  appear.  More  was 
*  472  known  to  exist;  *  and  at  last  the  second  and 
third  parts  were  found,  and,  with  the  testimony 
^of  Ercilla  to  the  truth  of  their  narratives,  were  pub- 
lished-in  1847,  bringing  their  broken  accounts  of  the 
Spanish  conquests  in  America,  and  especially  in  that 
part  of  it  since  known  as  Colombia,  down  to  about 
1588.  The  whole,  except  the  conclusion,  is  written  in 
the  Italian  octave  stanza,  and  extends  to  nearly  ninety 
thousand  lines,  in  pure,  fluent  Castilian,  which  soon 
afterwards  became  rare ;  but  in  a  chronicling  spirit, 
which,  though  it  adds  to  its  value  as  history,  takes 
from  it  all  the  best  characteristics  of  poetrj^^' 

Other  poems  of  the  same  general  character  followed. 
One  on  the  discovery  and  settlement  of  La  Plata  is  by 
Centenera,  who  shared  in  the  trials  and  sufferings  of 
the  original  conquest,  —  a  long,  dull  poem,  in  twenty- 
eight  cantos,  full  of  credulity,  and  yet  not  without 
value  as  a  record  of  what  its  author  saw  and  learned 

"  The  ]ioem  of  Castellanos  is  singu-  in  the  National  Libiary  of  that  cit}-, 

larly  enough  entitled  '' Elegias  de  Va-  were  not  ])uhlished  till  they  apjK'ared 

rones  llustres  de  Indias,"  and  we  have  in  the  foiirtli  volume  of  the  Biblioteea 

some   reason  to   suppose   it   originally  of  Aribau,  Madrid,  1847,  8vo.     Elcgias 

consisted  of  four  parts.     (Antonio,  Bib.  seems  to  liave  been  used  by  Castellanos 

Nov.,  Tom.  I.   p.  674.)     The  first  was  in  the  sense  of  eidoriict.     Of  their  au- 

]>rinted  at  Madrid,  l.o89,  4to  ;  but  the  thor  the  little  we  know  is  told  by  him- 

.second  and  third,  discovered,  I  believe,  self. 


CiiAr.  XXVI  I.J 


CENTENERA. 


A'lLLAGHA. 


557 


in  Ills  wild  adventures.  It  contains,  in  tlie  earlier 
parts,  much  irrelevant  matter  concerning  Peru,  and  is 
throuo-hout  a  stranu'e  mixture  of  liistorv  and  s-eoffra- 
phy,  ending  with  three  cantos  devoted  to  "  Captain 
Thomas  Candis,  captain-general  of  the  queen  of  Eng- 
land," in  other  words,  Thomas  Cavendish,  half  gentle- 
man, half  pirate,  whose  overthrow  in  Brazil,  in  1502, 
Centenera  thinks  a  sufficiently  glorious  catastrophe  for 
his  long  poem.^^  iVnother  similar  work  on  au 
expedition  into  New  *  Mexico  was  w^ritten  by  *  473 
Caspar  de  Yillagra,  a  captain  of  infjintry,  who 
served  in  the  adventures  he  describes,  and  published 
his  account  in  1610,  after  his  return  to  Spain.  But 
both  belong  to  the  domain  of  history  rather  than  to 
that  of  poetry.^^ 

No  less  characteristic  of  the  national  temper  and 


18  "Argentina,  Conquista  del  Rio  de 
la  Plata  y  Txicuman,  y  otros  Sueesos 
del  Peru,"  Lisboa,  1602,  4to.  There  is 
a  love-story  in  Canto  XII.,  and  some 
talk  about  enchantments  elsewhere  ; 
but,  with  a  few  such  slight  exceptions, 
the  jioem  is  evidently  pretty  good  geog- 
raphy, and  the  best  historj-  the  author 
could  collect  on  the  spot.  I  know  it 
only  in  the  reprint  of  Barcia,  who  takes 
it  into  his  collection  entirely  for  its  his- 
torical claims.  Figueroa  (Plaga  Uni- 
versal, 1615,  f.  345,  b)  calls  Captain 
Cavendish  "Candi,"  and  ])uts  him 
and  "  Ricarte  Aquines  "  —  Sir  Richard 
Hawkins  —  with  Dragut  and  other  Bar- 
bary  pirates,  who  were  so  much  liated 
in  Spain. 

One  thing  has  much  struck  me  in 
this  and  all  the  poems  written  by  Span- 
iards on  their  conquests  in  America, 
and  especially  by  those  who  visited  the 
countries  they  celebrate.  It  is,  that 
there  are  no  proper  sketches  of  the  pecu- 
liar scenery  through  which  they  passed, 
though  much  of  it  is  among  the  most 
beautiful  and  gi'and  that  exists  on  the 
globe,  and  must  have  been  tilling  them 
constantly  with  new  wonder.  The  truth 
is,  that,  when  they  describe  woods  and 
rivers    and    mountains,    their   descrip- 


tions, often  eloquent,  would  as  well  tit 
the  Pyrenees  or  the  Guadahjuivir  as 
they  do  Mexico,  the  Andes,  or  the 
Amazon.  Perhaps  this  deliciency  is 
connected  with  the  same  causes  that 
have  prevented  Spain  from  ever  pro- 
ducing a  great  landscape  painter.  At 
any  rate,  it  is  a  strong  contrast  to  the 
state  of  English  literature,  where  two 
of  the  most  remarkable  productions  of 
modern  times,  resting  in  no  small  de- 
gree on  descriptions  of  nature,  are  to  he 
traced  to  the  connection  of  England 
and  America;  —  I  mean  the  "  Tem- 
l^est"  and  "Robinson  Crusoe."  And 
yet  neither  Shakespeare  nor  Defoe  ever 
visited  the  scenery  their  genius  peopled 
with  such  marvellous  creations.  (See 
2}ost,  Chap.  XXXI.,  near  the  end,  on 
descriptive  poetry. 

1^  ' '  La  Conquista  del  Nuevo  ]\Iexico, 
por  Gaspar  de  Villagra,"  was  printed 
at  Alcala  in  1610,  8vo.  It  is  i:i  thirty- 
four  cantos  of  blank  verse,  with  a  coai'se 
portrait  of  the  author  ])refixed,  giving 
his  age  as  fifty-five.  There  must  be 
more  than  thirteen  tliou.sand  dull  verses, 
in  wliich  history  and  pagan  machinery 
are  mixed  up  in  the  wildest  way.  I 
have  seen  it  only  in  the  Bibliotheque 
de  I'Arsenal,  Paris. 


o58  BLASCO. MATA. V1KUE8.  [Peiuou  II. 

genius  than  these  historical  and  heroic  ])oeins  were 
the  long  rehgious  narratives  in  verse  produced  during 
the  same  period  and  hiter.  To  one  of  these  —  that 
of  Coloma  on  ^' The  Passion  of  Christ,"  printed  in  1-370 
—  we  have  ah*eadv  alluded.  Another,  '•The  Universal 
Redemption,"  by  Blasco,  first  printed  in  1-j84,  shovdd 
also  be  mentioned.  It  fills  fifty-six  cantos,  and  con- 
tains nearh'  thirty  thousand  lines,  embracing  the  his- 
tory of  .man  from  the  creation  to  the  descent  of  the 
Hol}^  Spirit,  and  reading  in  many  parts  like  one  of  the 
old  Mysteries.-'^  A  third  poem,  by  Mata,  not  unlike 
the  last,  extends  through  two  volumes,  and  is  devoted 
to  the  glories  of  Saint  Francis  and  five  of  his  followers; 
a  collection  of  legends  in  octave  stanzas,  put  together 
without  order  or  effect,  the  first  of  which  sets  forth  the 
meek  Sahit  Francis  in  the  disguise  of  a  knight-errant. 

None  of  the  three  has  any  value."^ 
*  474        *  The  next  in  the  list,  as  we  descend,  is  one 

of  the  best  of  its  class,  if  not  the  very  best.  It 
is  the  "Monserrate"  of  Virues,  the  dramatic  and  lyric 
poet,  so  much  praised  by  Lope  de  Vega  and  Cervantes. 
The  subject  is  taken  from  the  legends  of  the  Spanish 
Church  in  the  ninth  century.     Garin,  a  hermit  living 

2'  "Universal    Redencion   de    Fran-  and  in  full  annor  ;  Tom.  II.,  1589,  4to. 

ci-sco  Hernandez  Blasco,"  Toledo,  1584,  A  third  volunit;  was  promised,   but  it 

1589,  4to  ;  Madrid,  1609,  4to  ;  Alcala,  never  appeared.     The    five   saints   are 

1612.     He  was  of  Toledo,   and  claims  St.  Anthony  of  Padua,  Sta.  Buenaven- 

that  a  part  of  his  poem  was  a  revelation  tura,  St.  Luis  the  Bishop,  Sta.  Berna- 

to    a   nun.      A    Second    Part,    by   his  diua,    and    Sta.    Clara,    all    ilinoiites. 

brother  Luis    Hernandez    Blasco,   still  St.   Anthony  jjreaching  to  the  fishes, 

longer,    appeared   in   1613,   at   Alcala,  whom  he  addres.ses  (Canto  XVII.)  as 

which   I    have  never  seen.     Gayangos  hennanos  peccs,  is  veiy  quaint, 

.says  it  is  in  twenty-five  cantos,  making  Gayangos  notices  an  allegorical  poem 

five    thousand    eight    hundred    octave  of   Mata,    entitled    "Cantos  Morah-s," 

stanzas,   or  more   than  fifty  thou.sand  which   was    printed   at   Valladolid    in 

lines.  1594,  and  of  wliich  he  gives  extracts, 

■^1  "EI   Cavallero   Assisio,    Vida   de  tliat   ajiproach    nearer   to    jjoetry  than 

San    Francisco   y  otros  Cinco   Santos,  anything   in  the   Life  of  St.    Francis, 

por  Gabriel  de  Mata,"  Tom.  I.,  Bilbao,  It  is  in  tliirteen  cantos,  each  of  which 

1587,  with  a  woodcut  of  St.  Francis  on  has  a  long  prose  exposition  of  its  moral 

the  title-page,  as  a  knight  on  horseback  meaning. 


€iiAP.  XXVI 1.]  VIRUES,  THE    MOXSEIIRATE.  .  559 

on  the  desolate  inoiintaiii  of  Moiiserrate,  in  Catalonia, 
i,s  o-iiiltv  of  one  of  the  oTossest  and  most  atrocious 
crimes  of  which  human  niiture  is  capable.  Remorse 
seizes  him.  Tie  goes  to  Rome  for  absolution,  and 
obtains  it  only  on  the  most  degrading  conditions. 
His  penitence,  however,  is  sincere  and  complete.  In 
proof  of  it,  the  person  he  has  murdered  is  restored  to 
life,  and  the  Madonna,  appearing  on  the  wild  mountain 
where  the  unhappy  man  had  committed  his  crime, 
consecrates  its  solitudes  by  founding  there  the  mag- 
nificent sanctuary  which  has  ever  since  made  the  Mon- 
serrate  holy  ground  to  all  devout  Spaniards. 

That  such  a  legend  should  be  taken  by  a  soldier 
and  a  man  of  the  world  as  a  subject  for  poetry  would 
hardly  have  been  possible  in  the  sixteenth  century  in 
any  country  except  Spain.  But  many  a  soldier  there, 
even  in  our  own  times,  has  ended  a  life  of  excesses  in 
a  hermitage  as  rude  and  solitary  as  that  of  Garin  ;  ^^ 
and  in  the  time  of  Philip  the  Second,  it  seemed  noth- 
ing marvellous  that  one  who  had  fought  at  the  battle 
of  Lepanto,  and  who,  by  way  of  distinction,  was 
commonly  called  "the  Captain  *  Virues,"  should  *  475 
yet  devote  the  leisure  of  his  best  years  to  a 
poem  on  Garin's  deploraljle  life  and  revolting  adven- 
tures. Such,  at  least,  was  the  fact.  The  "  Monserrate," 
from  the  moment  of  its  appearance,  was  successful. 
Nor  has  its  success  been  materially  diminished  at  any 

^^  In  a  hermitage  on  a  mountain  near  the  diplomatic  and  military  service  of 

Cordova,   whei-e   about   thirty   hermits  his  country,  than  for  his  high  rank,  -  - 

lived  in  stern  silence  and  subjected  to  who   led   me  up  that  rude  mountain, 

the  most  cruel  penances,  I  once  saw  a  and  filled  a  long  and  Ix-autiful  morning 

person  who  had  served  with  distinction  with  strange  sights  and  adventures  anil 

as  an  officer  at  the  battle  of  Trafalgar,  stories,   such  as   can    be   found  in  no 

and  another  who  had  been  of  the  hous(!-  country   but   Spain,    assured   me   that 

holdof  the  first  queen  of  Ferdinand  VII.  cases  like  those  of  the  Spanish  officers 

The   Duke   de   Rivas  and   his  brother,  who  had  become  hermits  were  still  of 

Don  Angel,  — now  (1862)  wearing  the  no  infrequent  occurrence  in  their  coun- 

title  liimself,  but  more  distinguished  as  try.     This  was  in  1818. 
a  poet,  and  for  his  eminent  merits  in 


560  •  UUAVO. VALDIVIELSO.  [Pkuiod  11. 

period  since.  It  has  more  of  the  proper  arrangement 
and  proportions  of  an  epic  than  any  other  of  the  seri- 
ous poems  of  its  class  in  the  hmgnage  ;  and  in  the 
richness  and  finish  of  its  versification,  it  is  not  sur- 
passed, if  it  is  equalled,  by  any  of  those  of  its  age. 
The  difficnlties  Yirues  had  to  encounter  lay  in  the 
nature  of  his  subject  and  the  low  character  of  his 
hero ;  but  in  the  course  of  twenty  cantos,  interspersed 
with  occasional  episodes,  like  those  on  the  battle  of 
Lepanto,  and  the  glories  of  Monserrate,  these  dis- 
advantages are  not  always  felt  as  blemishes,  and,  as 
we  know,  have  not  prevented  the  "Monserrate"  from 
being  read  and  admired  in  an  age  little  inclined  to 
believe  the  legend  on  which  it  is  founded.^ 

The  '^'  Benedictina,"  by  Nicholas  Bravo,  was  pidj- 
lished  in  1G()4.  and  seems  to  have  Ijeen  intended  to 
give  the  lives  of  Saint  Benedict  and  his  ])rin('ipal  fol- 
lowers, in  the  way  in  which  Castellanos  had  given  the 
lives  of  Columbus  and  the  early  American  adventurers, 
but  was  probaljly  regarded  nither  as  a  book  of  devo- 
tion for  the  monks  of  the  brotherhood,  in  MJiich  the 
author  held  a  high  place,  than  as  a  book  of  poetry. 
Certainly,  to  the  worldly,  tliat  is  its  true  character. 
Nor  can  any  other  than  a  similar  merit  be  assigned  to 
tw^o  poems  for  which  the  social  position  of  their  author, 
Valdivielso,    insured    a    wider    temporary    reputation. 

^^  Of  Virues  a  noticp  lias  been  already  less.     Not  so  the  "  Azuccna  Silvestre  " 

given,  (ante,  p.  64, >  to  which  it  is  only  of  Zonilla,   1845,  which  is  a  graceful 

neces.sary  to  add   here    that    there    are  version  of  the  same  legend, 

editions   of    the    Monsermte   of    1588,  In    the    "Jahrbuch  fiir    Hoinanische 

IGO],    10(12,    1609,   and   1805;  the  last  und  Englische  Literatur,"  (Berlin,  1860. 

(Madrid,  Svo)  witli  a  Preface  written,  I  ])i).    1:59-16:3,)   is  an  excellent  life  of 

think,  by  Mayans  y  Siscar.     A  poem  .Virues,    and   a  judicious   and   tasteful 

by   Francisco  de  Ortega,  on  the  same  criticism  of  his  works,   by  the  Baron 

subject,   ajii>eare<l  about  the  middle  of  von     Miinch  -  B(dlinghausen,    which    I 

the  eighteenth  century,  in  small  (piarto,  .should  have  been  glad  to  have  received 

without  date,   entitled    "  On'gen,   Anti-  earlier,  ^ — before   I   had  jninted  my  ac- 

guedail  e  Invencion  dc  nuestra  Sefiora  count  of  the  dramas  of  Virues,  in  Chap, 

de  Monbcrrate."     Jt  is  entirely  worth-  VIII.  of  this  Period. 


C'li.vr.  XXVH.]  IIO.IEDA.  501 

The  first  is  on  the  liistory  of  Josepli,  tlie  Inis- 
bsind  of  Mary,  wi-itteii,  apparently,  *  becanse  *  47C) 
Valdivielso  himself  had  received  in  baptism  the 
name  of  that  saint.  The  other  is  on  the  peculiarly 
sacred  image  of  the  Madonna,  preserved  by  a  series  of 
miracles  from  contamination  during  the  subjugation  of 
Spain  by  the  Moors,  and  ever  since  venerated  in  the 
cathedral  of  Toledo,  to  whose  princely  archbishop  Val- 
divielso was  attached  as  a  chaplain.  Both  of  these 
poems  are  full  of  learning  and  of  dulness,  enormously 
long,  and  comprehend  together  a  large  part  of  the  his- 
tory, not  only  of  the  Spanish  Church,  Ijut  of  the  king- 
dom of  Spain.-* 

Lope's  religious  epic  or  narrative  poems,  of  which  we 
have  already  spoken,  appeared  at  about  the  same  time 
with  those  of  Valdivielso,  and  enjoyed  the  success  that 
attended  whatever  bore  the  name  of  the  great  popu- 
lar author  of  his  age.  But  better  than  anything  of 
this  class  produced  by  him  was  the  "  Christiada "  of 
Diego  de  Hojeda,  printed  in  1611,  and  taken  in  a  slight 
degree  from  the  Latin  poem  with  the  same  title  by 
Vida,  but  not  enough  indebted  to  it  to  impair  the  au- 
thor's claims  to  originality.  Its  subject  is  very  simple. 
It  opens  with  the  Last  Supper,  and  it  closes  with  the 

2*  "La    Benedictina   de    F.    Nicolas  "  Exposicion  parafrastica  del  Psaltcrio  " 

Bravo,"  Salamanca,   1604,  4to.     Bravo  exists,  I  think,  only  iu  the  edition  of 

was  a  proiessor  at  Salamanca  and  Ma-  Madrid,  1623,  4to. 

drid,  and  died  in  1648,  the  head  of  a  Before  the  Benedictina,  I  might  havn 

rich  monastery  of  his  order  in  Navarre  noticed  the  "  Historia  de  San  Ramon 

(Antonio,  Bib.  Nov.,  Tom.  II.  p.  151).  de  Penafort,"  ec,  "en  coplas  Castella- 

Of    Valdivielso    I    have   spoken,    ante,  nas,"  by  Vicente  Miguel  de  Moradell, 

Chap.  XXI.      His   "Vida,   etc.    de  San  Barcelona,    1603,    of  which    I   found    a 

Jo.sef,"  printed  1607  and  1647,  makes  copy  in  the  Bibliotheque  de  I'Arsenal 

above  seven  hundred  pages  in  the  edi-  at  Paris,  but  it  is  among  the  poorest  of 

tion  of  Lisbon,   1615,    12mo  ;   and  his  the  devout  poems  of  the  period,  tliough 

"Sagrario  de  Toledo,"  Barcelona,  1618,  the  language  is  not  wanting  in  ])urity. 

12mo,  fills  nearly  a  thousand;  —  both  I  might,  also,  notice  "La  Divina  Se- 

in  octave  stanzas,  as  are  neai-ly  all  the  mana,"  —  a  poem  on  the  Creation,  di- 

poems  of  their  class.      The  San  Josef  vided  into  seven  days,  by  Joan  Do.ssi, 

is   reprinted  in  the    Biblioteea    of    Hi-  (Barcelona,  1610,  12mo,  tf.  248,)— but 

vadeneyra,    Tom.    XXIX.,   1854.      The  it  is  too  poor. 
VOL.   II.                                 36 


562  DIAZ.  FSCOBAII,  AND    OTHERS.  [Pkkiod  IL 

Crucifixion.  The  episodes  are  few  and  a])|)ropriate. 
except  one. —  tliat  in  which  the  dress  of  the  Saviour  in 
the  4i:arden  is  made  an  occasion  for  describino;  all  lui- 
man  sins,  whose  allegorical  history  is  represented  as  if 
woven  with  curses  into  the  seven  ample   folds  of  the 

mantle  laid  on  the  shoulders  of  the  expiatory 
*477     victim,  who   thus   *"  bears    them    for   our   sake. 

The  vision  of  the  future  glories  of  his  Church 
granted  to  the  sufferer  is,  on  the  contrary,  happily  con- 
ceived and  well  suited  to  its  j^lace  ;  and  still  better  are 
the  gentle  and  touching  consolations  offered  him  in 
prophecy.  Indeed,  not  a  little  skill  is  shown  in  the 
general  structure  of  the  poem,  and  its  verse  is  un- 
commonly sw^eet  and  graceful.  If  the  characters  were 
draAvn  with  a  firmer  hand,  and  if  the  language  were 
always  sustained  with  the  dignity  its  subject  demands, 
the  "  Christiada  "  would  stand  deservedly  at  the  side 
of  the  ''  Monserrate  "  "of  Virues.  Even  after  making 
this  deduction  from  its  merits,  no  other  religious  poem 
in  the  language  is  to  be  placed  before  it.^ 

In  the  same  3^ear,  Alonso  Diaz,  of  Seville,  published 
a  pious  poem  on  another  of  the  consecrated  images  of 
the  Madonna  ;  and  afterw\ards,  in  rapid  succession,  we 
have  heroic  poems,  as  they  are  called,  on  Loyola,  and 
on  the  Madonna,  both  hy  Antonio  de  Escobar  ;  —  one 
on  the  creation  of  the  world,  b}^  Azevedo,  but  no  more 
an  epic  than  the  "  Week  "  of  Du  Bartas,  from  which  it 
is  imitated ;  —  one  on  the  story  of  Toljias,  by  Caudi- 

'■^  "La  Christiada  de  Diego  de  Hoje-  know  only  that  he  was  a  native  of  Se- 

da,"  Sevilla,  1611,  4to,  reprinted  in  lli-  Wile,  but  went  yonng  to  Lima,  in  Peru, 

vadeuejTa's  "  Kiblioteca,"  Tom.  XVIL,  where  he  wrote  this  poem,  and  where  he 

1851.     It  has  the  nieiit  of  having  only  died  at  the  head  of  a  Dominican  eonvent 

twelve   cantos,    and,    if  this  were   the  founded  by  himself.  (Antonio,  Bib.  Nov., 

proper  place,  it  might  well  be  com])ared  Tom.  I.  p.  289.)     There  is  a  rij'ncimeiito 

with  Milton's  "Paradi.se  Regained"  for  of  the  "Christiada,"  by  Juan  Manuel 

its    scenes  with    the    devils,   and    with  de   Beriiozabal,   printed  Madi'id,    1841, 

Klopstock's    "Messiah"   for  the    .scene  18mo,  in  a  .small  volunii' ;  not,  however, 

of  ilii'  (Tiicilixion.     Of  the  author  we  an  improvement  on  the  original. 


Chap.  XXVI 1.]       EELIGIOUS    NARRATIVE    POEMS. 


563 


villa  Santaren  ;  —  and  one  on  "The  Brotherhood  of 
the  Five  Martyrs  of  Arabia,"  hy  Rodriguez  de  Vargas; 
the  last  being  the  result  of  a  vow  to  two  of  their  num- 
ber, through  wdiose  intercession  the  author  believed 
himself  to  have  been  cured  of  a  mortal  disease.  But 
all  these,  and  all  of  the  same  class  that  followed  them, 

—  the  "  David  "  of  Uziel,  —  Calvo's  poem  on  "  The 
Virgin," — Salgado's  on  St.  Nicolas  de  Tolentino, — 
Vivas's  ^'  Life  of  Christ,"  — Juan  DAvila's  "  Passion  of 
the  Man-God,"  —  the  "  Samson  "  of  Enriquez  Gomez, 

—  the  "  St.  Thomas  "  of  Diego  Saenz,  —  another  heroic 
poem  on  Loj^ola,  by  Camargo,  —  and  another 

"  Christiad,"   by  Encisso,  —  which,    taken    *  to-    *  478 
grether,  brinfj;  the  list  down  to  the  end  of  the 
century,  —  add  nothing  to  the  claims  or  character  of 
Spanish  religious  narrative    poetry,  though  they  add 
much  to  its  cumbersome  amount. ^"^ 


26  ' '  Poema  Castellano  de  nuestra  Se- 
iiora  de  Aguas  Santas,  por  Alonso  Diaz," 
Seville,  1611,  cited  by  Antonio  (]'>ib. 
Nov.,  Tom.  I.  jx  21).  —  "  San  Ignacio 
de  Loyola,  Poema  He roico,"  Valladolid, 
1613,  8vo  ;  and  "  Historia  de  la  Virgeu 
Madre  de  Dios,"  1608,  afterwards  pul)- 
li-shed  with  the  title  of  "  Nueva  Jerusa- 
len  Maria,"  Valladolid,  162.5,  ISmo  ; 
both  by  Antonio  de  Escobar  y  Mendoza, 
and  both  the  work  of  his  youth,  fiinm 
he  lived  to  1668.  (Ibid.,  p.  115.)  The 
last  of  these  poems,  my  copy  of  which 
is  of  the  fourth  edition,  absurdly  divides 
the  life  of  the  Madonna  according  to 
the  twelve  precious  stones  that  form 
the  foundations  of  the  New  Jerusalem 
in  the  twenty-first  chapter  of  the  Reve- 
lation ;  each  fundamento,  as  the  sepa- 
rate portions  or  books  are  called,  being 
subdivided  into  three  cantos  ;  and  the 
whole  filling  above  twelve  thousand 
lines  of  octave  .stanzas,  which  are  not 
always  without  merit,  though  they  gen- 
erally have  very  little.  —  "  Creacion  d(d 
Mundo  de  Alonso  de  Azevedo,"  Roma, 
1615,  12mo,  pp.  270,  praised  by  Rosell 
in  the  Preface  to  Rivadeneyra's  collec- 
tion. Vol.  XXIX.,  where  it  is  reprinted. 
■ —  ' '  Historia   de  Tobias,   Poema  por  el 


Licenciado  Caudivilla  Santaren  de  As- 
torga,"  Barcelona,  1615, 12mo.  It  makes 
about  twelve  hundred  octave  stanzas,  of 
very  pure  Castilian  (the  author  boasting 
that  he  was  of  Toledo,  which  he  calls 
"  patria  mia,"  c.  xi.)  ;  but  still  I  find 
no  notice  of  it,  and  know  no  copy  of  it 
except  my  own.  —  "La  Verdadera  Her- 
mandad  de  los  Cinco  Martires  de  Arabia, 
l)or  Damian  Rodriguez  de  Vargas,"  To- 
ledo, 1621,  4to.  It  is  very  short  for 
the  class  to  which  it  belongs,  contain- 
ing only  about  three  thousand  lines,  but 
it  is  hardly  possible  that  any  of  them 
should  be  worse.  —  "  David,  Poema 
Heroico  del  Doctor  Jacobo  Uziel,"  Ve- 
netia,  1624,  pp.  -i-lO ;  a  poem  in  twelve 
cantos,  on  the  story  of  the  Hebrew 
monarch  whose  name  it  bears,  written 
in  a  plain  and  .simple  style,  evidently 
imitating  the  flow  of  Tasso's  .stanzas, 
but  without  poetical  S])irit,  and  in  the 
ninth  canto  absurdly  bringing  a  Span- 
ish navigator  to  the  court  of  Jerusalem. 
—  "La  Mejor  Muger  Madre  y  Virgen, 
Poema  Sacro,  por  Sebastian  de  Nieva 
Calvo,"  Madrid,  1625,  4to.  It  ends  in 
the  fourteenth  book  with  the  victory 
of  Ijcpanto,  which  is  attributed  to  tlie 
intercession   of   the   Madonna  and   the 


664 


URREA. 


[Period  II. 


*  479  *  Of  an  opposite  character  to  these  relig- 
ious poems  are  the  purely,  or  almost  purely, 
imaginative  and  romantic  poems  of  the  same  period, 
whose  form  vet  brinQ:s  them  into  the  same  class. 
Their  number  is  not  large,  and  nearly  all  of  them  are 
connected  more  or  less  with  the  fictions  which  Ai'iosto, 
in  the  beo-innino-  of  the  sixteenth  century,  had  thrown 
lip  like  brilliant  fireworks  into  the  Italian  sky,  and 
which  had  drawn  to  them  tlie  admiration  of  all  Europe, 
and  especially  of  all  Spain.  There  a  translation  of  the 
'•  Orlando  Furioso,"  poor  indeed,  but  popular,  had  been 
pubhshed  In-  Urrea  before  1-350.  An  imitation  soon 
followed.  —  the  one  already  alluded  to  as  made  bv  Es- 


virtiie  of  the  rosary.  —  "El  Santo  ili- 
lagroso  -Augiistiniano  Sau  Xicolas  ile 
Tolentino,"  Madiid,  1628,  4to,  by  Fr. 
Fernando  Camargo  y  Salgado,  praised 
by  Gayangos. — "Grandezas  Di\'inas, 
Vida  y  iluerte  de  nuestro  Salvador, 
etc.,  per  Fr.  Duran  Vivas,"  found  in 
scattered  papere  after  his  death,  and 
arranged  and  modernized  in  its  lan- 
guage by  his  grandson,  who  published 
it  (MadVid,  1643,  4to)  ;  a  worthless 
poem,  more  than  half  of  which  is 
thrown  into  the  form  of  a  speech  from 
Joseph  to  Pontius  Pilate.  —  "  Pasion 
del  Hombre  Dios,  por  el  Maestro  .Juan 
Davila,"  Leon  de  Francia,  1G61,  folio, 
written  in  the  Si)anish  decimas  of  Es- 
]iinel,  and  tilling  about  three-and-twenty 
thousand  lines,  divided  into  six  books, 
which  are  subdivided  into  cstancms,  or 
i-esting-jila(  I's,  and  these  again  into  can- 
tos.—  "Sanson  Xazareno,  Poema  Ero- 
ieo,  por  Ant.  Enriquez  Gomez,"  Kuan, 
16.56,  4to,  thorouglily  infected  with 
Gongorism,  as  is  another  poem  by  the 
.same  author,  half  narrative,  half  lyrical, 
called  "  La  ( 'ul|)a  del  Piimer  Peregrino," 
Ruan,  1644,  4to.  —  "San  Ignacio  de 
Loyola,  Poeina  Heroico,  escrivialo  Her- 
nando Dominguez  Camargo,"  1666,  4to, 
a  native  of  .Santa  Fe  de  Bogota,  whose 
poem,  filling  nearly  four  huixlred  pages 
of  octave  rhymes,  is  a  fragment  pub- 
lished after  his  death.  —  "  La  Thoina- 
siada  al  Sol  <le  la  Iglesia  y  -su  Do(;tor 
Santo  Thomas  de  Ai|uino,  ec,  por  El 
Padre  Fray  Diego  Saenz,"  Guatemala, 


1667,  4to,  ff.  161  ;  a  life  of  Thomas  of 
Aquinas,  in  various  verse,  but,  as  one 
of  the  aprovnciones  saj's,  "it  is  com- 
posed of  solid  and  massive  theology." 

—  "La  Christiada,  Poema  Sacro  y  Vida 
de  ,Jesu  Christo,  que  e.scrivit)  Juan  Fran- 
cisco de  Enci.sso  j'Moncon,"  Cadiz,  1694, 
4to  ;  deformed,  like  almost  eveiything 
of  the  period  when  it  appeared,  with  the 
worst  taste.  —  To  these  might  be  added 
two  poems  by  Alonso  Martin  Braones  ; 

—  one  called  "  Epitome  de  los  Triunfos 
de  Jesus,"  Senlla,  1686,  4to,  and  the 
other  "  E])itome  de  las  Glorias  de  Ma- 
ria," Sevilla,  1689,  4to.  Each  consists 
of  exactly  five  hundred  octave  stanzas, 
very  dull,  but  not  in  a  style  so  obscure 
as  was  then  common.  Tlie  fii-st  repeats 
two  hundred  and  fifty  times  the  name 
of  Jesus,  and  the  last  reiieats  as  often 
the  name  of  Maiy  ;  facts  which  their 
author  announces  as  the  chief  merits  of 
his  poems. 

But  if  any  one  desires  to  know  how 
numerous  are  the  narrative  poems  of 
Spain,  he  needs  only  to  read  over  the 
"Catalogo  de  Poemas  Castellanos  he- 
roicos,  religiosos,  histoiicos,  fabulosos 
y  satiricos,"  prefixed  by  Don  Cayetano 
Kosell  to  Vol.  XXIX.  of  Rivadeneyra's 
Biblioteca,  1854.  There  are  neaily 
three  hundred  of  them,  and  although, 
after  the  Italian  masters,  and  especially 
Ta.s-so,  became  known  in  Spain,  there 
were  many  attemj)ts  made  to  imitate 
them,  yet  not  one  strictly  epic  ])oem  was 
produced,  except  Prince  Ksquilache's. 


Chap.  XXVII.]  ESPINOSA.  505 

pinosa  in  1-555.  It  is  called  '•  The  Second  Part  of  the 
Orlando,  with  the  True  Event  of  the  Famous  Battle  of 
Roncesvalles,  and  the  End  and  Death  of  the  Twelve 
Peers  of  France."  But  at  the  very  outset  its  author 
tells  us  that  "he  sings  the  great  glory  of  Spaui;irds, 
and  the  overthrow  of  Charlemagne  and  his  followers," 
adding  significantly,  "  This  history  will  relate  the 
truth,  and  not  give  the  story  as  it  is  told  hy  that 
Frenchman,  Turpin."  Of  course,  we  have,  instead  of 
the  fictions  to  which  we  are  accustomed  in  Ariosto, 
the  Spanish  fictions  of  Bernardo  del  Carpio  and  the 
rout  of  the  Twelve  Peers  at  Roncesvalles,  —  all  very 
little  to  the  credit  of  Charlemagne,  who,  at  the  end, 
retreats,  disgraced,  to  Germany.  But  still,  the  whole 
is  ingeniously  connected  with  the  stories  of  the  "  Or- 
lando Furioso,"  and  carries  on,  to  a  considerable  extent, 
the  adventures  of  the  personages  who  are  its  heroes 
and  heroines. 

Some  of  the  fictions  of  Espinosa,  however,  are  very 
extravagant  and  absurd.  Thus,  in  the  twenty- 
second  *  canto,  Bernardo  goes  to  Paris  and  over-  *  480 
throws  several  of  the  paladins;  and  in  the 
thirty-third,  whose  scene  is  laid  in  Ireland,  he  disen- 
chants Olympia  and  becomes  king  of  the  island ;  — 
both  of  them  needless  and  worthless  innovations  on  the 
story  of  Bernardo,  as  it  comes  to  us  in  the  old  Spanish 
ballads  and  chronicles.  But  in  general,  though  it  is 
certainly  not  wanting  in  giants  and  enchantments, 
Espinosa's  continuation  of  the  Orlando  is  less  en- 
cumbered Avith  impossibilities  and  absurdities  than  the 
similar  poem  of  Lope  de  Vega  ;  and,  in  some  parts,  is 
very  easy  and  graceful  in  its  story-telling  spirit.  It 
ends  with  the  thirty-fifth  canto,  after  going  through 
above  fourteen  thousand  lines  in  ottava  rima ;  and  yet, 


o06 


ESPIXOSA. 


[Pkiuud  II. 


after  all,  the  conclusion  is  abrupt,  and  we  have  an  in 
timation  that  more  may  follow.^' 


27  "Seguiula  Parte  de  Orlaudo,"  etc., 
por  Nicolas  Espinosa,  Zaragoza,  1555, 
4to,  Anveres,  1556,  4to,  etc.  The  Or- 
lamlo  of  Ariosto,  translated  b}'^  UiTea, 
was  published  at  Lyons  in  1550,  folio, 
(the  same  edition,  no  doubt,  which  An- 
tonio gives  to  1556,)  and  is  treated  with 
due  sevcnity  by  the  curate  in  the  scru- 
tiny of  Don  Quixote's  library,  and  by 
Cleniencin  in  his  coninientary  on  that 
passage  (Tom.  I.  p.  120).  Among  the 
othej-  faults  of  this  translation  it  omits 
several  passages  in  the  original ;  adds 
others  ;  and  deals  much  too  freely  with 
the  whole.  Ex.  gr.  in  Canto  III.  forty- 
five  stanzas  are  cut  down  to  two,  and 
the  canto  itself  made  part  of  the  sec- 
ond, so  that  there  is  a  change  in  the 
numbering  of  the  cantos  after  this  to 
the  last,  which  Urrea  makes  the  forty- 
fifth,  while  Ariosto  has  forty-six.  In 
Canto  XXI Y.  he  does  ]\ot  translate  Ari- 
osto's  disparagement  of  the  famous  gift 
of  Constantine  to  the  Pope,  out  of  fear, 
I  suppose,  of  the  Inrpiisition.  In  Can- 
to XXXV.  he  adds  .seventy  stanzas  in 
honor  of  Spain.     And  so  on. 

Gayangos  notes  two  other  translations 
of  the  Orlando,  one  in  prose  by  Diego 
Vaz(piez  de  Contreras  in  1585,  and  the 
other  in  verse,  indeed,  but  in  verse 
which,  from  his  account  of  it,  is  much 
like  prose,  by  Hernando  de  Alcozer, 
and  which  was  published  in  1550,  prob- 
ably, I  think,  after  Urrea's. 

Not  connected  with  th'e  preceding 
poems  by  their  subjects,  but,  from  their 
general  style  of  versification,  belonging 
to  the  same  class,  are  several  serious 
rhymed  books  of  chivalry,  three  of 
which  .should  be  slightly  noticed. 

Of  the  first  I  have  seen  only  a  single 
copy.  1  found  it  in  the  Imperial  Li- 
brary at  Vienna,  which  is  uncommonly 
rich  in  old  Spanish  books,  chiefly  in 
consequence  of  an  acquisition  made  be- 
tween 1670  and  1675  of  a  curious  and 
valuable  collection  which  seemed  to 
have  been  miidc.  in  Madrid  by  an  ama- 
teur—  the  Marques  de  Cabrega  —  who 
lived  in  the  period  preceding.  The 
poem  to  which  I  refer  is  entitled  "  Li- 
bro  ])riniero  de  los  famosos  hechos  del 
Principe  Celidon  de  Iberia  por  Goncjalo 
Gomez  de  Luque,  natural  de  la  Ciudad 
de  Cordoba."  (Alcala,  1583,  4to.)  It 
is  a  wild  tale  of  chivalry  in  verse,  be- 


ginning with  the  maiTiage  of  Altello, 
Prince  of  Spain,  to  Aurelia,  daughter  of 
Aurelius  the  Emperor  of  Constantino- 
ple, and  extends  through  forty  books 
and  above  four  thousand  five  hundred 
octave  stanzas  of  extravagant  and  unin- 
teresting adventures.  In  the  Prologo 
the  author  calls  it  '■' pequeFaiela  obra," 
and  at  the  end  promises  a  continuation, 
which,  happily,  never  appeared.  The 
languagt!  is  good,  —  almost  as  good  as 
he  boasts  it  to  be,  when  he  says  :  — 
Canto  blaiiflos  versos  que  corriendo 
Van  con  pie  delieado  e  sonoroso. 

The  next  is  the  ' '  Florando  de  Cas- 
tilla,  Lauro  de  Cavalleros,"  ec,  (Alcala, 
1588,  4to,  tf.  168,)  in  ottava  rima.  It 
is  by  the  Licentiate  Hieronymo  de  Hu- 
erta,  afterwards  ph)'sician  to  Philip  IV., 
and  author  of  several  works  noted  by 
Antonio.  The  Florando  is  an  account 
of  a  Spanish  cavalier  descended  from 
Hercules,  who,  after  giving  hunself  up 
to  an  elfeminate  and  luxurious  life,  is 
roused  by  his  great  ancestor,  in  a  dream, 
to  become  a  wandering  knight  so  fair ; 
and  after  travelling  through  many  coun- 
tries and  encountering  the  usual  num- 
ber of  adventures  with  discourteous 
adversaries,  giants,  and  enchanters, 
achieves  his  destiny,  and  the  whole 
ends  as  might  have  been  foreseen, 
though  somewhat  abruptly.  Gayangos 
praises  it  for  its  poetry,  and  pronounces 
it  "obra  no  vulgar."  Antonio  says  it 
was  translated  into  Latin,  but  does  not 
.say  the  Latin  version  was  printed.  (N. 
Ant.,  Bib.  Nov.,  Tom.  I.  p.  587,  and 
Mayans  y  Siscar,  Cartas  de  Varies  Au- 
tores,  Tom.  II.,  1773,  p.  36.)  It  is 
reprinted  in  the  Biblioteca  de  Autores 
Espanoles,  (Tom.  XXXVL,  1855,)  and 
is  in  thirteen  cantos,  making  alx)ut  four 
hundred  octave  stanzas.  It  ^eems  to 
me  to  be  a  poor  romance,  in  imitation 
of  Ariosto.  In  the  Preface  to  the  re- 
print of  1855,  Huerta  is  said  to  have 
been  born  in  1573  ;  but  as  the  ajirova- 
cion  of  Ercilla  to  the  Florando  is  dated 
June  27,  1587,  making  him  only  four- 
teen years  old  when  his  })rivUe(jio  was 
gianted,  I  .suppose  there  is  some  mis- 
take in  the  matter.  Huerta  wrote  sev- 
eral other  works,  but  the  one  to  which 
his  name  may  best  be  trusted  is,  I 
think,  a  translation  of  Pliny's  Natural 
History,  of  which  parts  were  published 


Chap.  XXYIF.]       MARTIN    DE    BOLEA    AND    OTHERS. 


■OU  i 


*  But  no  more  came  from  the  pen  of  Espinosa.    *  481 
Others,  however,  continued  the  same  series  of 
fictions,  if  they  did  not  take  up  the  thread  where  he 
left  it.     An  Arag-onese   nobk^nan,   Martin    de    Bolea, 
wrote   an  "  Orkindo  Enamorado  "  ;  —  and   Garrido   de 
Villena  of  Alcala,  who,  in  1577,  had  made  known  to  his 
countrymen  the  "  Orhxndo  Innamorato  "  of  Boiardo,  in 
a  Spanish  dress,  pubhslied,  six  years  afterwards, 
his  "  Battle  of  Roncesvalles  "  ;  *a  poem  which    *  482 
was  followed,  in  1585,  by  one  of  Agustin  Alonso, 
on  substantially  the  same  subject.     But  all  of  them  are 
now  neglected  or  forgotten.'-^® 


ill  1599  and  1603  ;  but  I  have  a  copy 
of  tlie  whole  printed  in  1624  and  1629, 
in  two  vohimes,  folio.  It  is  written  in 
vigorous  Sjianish,  and  was  no  doubt  an 
important  contribution  to  the  intel- 
lectual resources  of  his  country  ;  but 
the  illustrations  that  accompany  it  in 
the  form  of  miserable  woodcuts  show 
how  imperfect  was  the  state  of  science 
at  that  time  in  Spain,  and  how  much 
it  needed  more  than  Pliny  or  Huerta 
coukl  do  for  it. 

The  third  of  these  poetical  Romances 
is  not  unlike  the  two  others.  At  any 
rate  it  is  quite  as  grave  and  quite  as 
extravagant.  It  is  entitled  "  (lenealo- 
gia  de  la  Toledana  discreta,"  (Alcala, 
1604,)  and  is  only  the  First  Part,  as 
announced  by  its  author,  Eugenio  Mar- 
tinez, who  dedicates  it  to  his  native 
city,  Toledo.  It  begins  in  England, 
which,  he  says,  is  ' '  poblada  de  Espa- 
nola  y  Griega  gente,"  and  his  purpose, 
announced  in  his  Prologo,  is  ' '  to  give 
an  account  of  all  the  illustrious  houses 
in  Spain."  But  he  fills  thirty -four 
books  and  about  three  thousand  octave 
stanzas  with  a  congeries  and  confusion 
of  stories  and  adventures,  which  concern 
only  imaginary  personages,  and  have  no 
relation  to  any  known  families  either  in 
Spain  or  in  any  other  country  of  the 
world.  The  poem  gets  its  name  from 
a  Toledau  princess,  Sacridea,  who  is 
found  in  England  in  the  third  canto, 
calling  for  help  from  all  true  cavaliers 
against  her  cousin,  who  seeks  to  usurp 
her  royal  rights  ;  but  she  is  not  more 
prominent  afterwar<ls  tlian  several  of 
the  other  figures,  who  aiqiear  and  dis- 


appear, it  is  not  easy  to  tell  whJ^  The 
style  is  better,  I  think,  than  that  of 
the  "Celidon  de  Iberia,"  —  the  verse 
flowing  and  the  language  pure,  —  and 
it  seems  to  have  enjoyed  some  success, 
for  I  find  editions  noted  as  of  1599  and 
1608.  But  I  have  never  seen  any  copy 
of  it,  except  my  own,  which  is  of  1604. 
How  long  the  "Toledana  di.scieta" 
would  have  been,  if  the  author-  had 
continued  it  as  lie  begins,  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  conjecture,  for,  as  he  does  not 
reach  his  subject  in  tliis  First  Part,  lie 
might  have  gone  on  in  the  same  way 
forever,  and  found  no  end  in  wandering 
mazes  lost.  He,  however,  may  have 
stopjied,  as  Antonio  intimates,  i'rom 
taking  a  religious  turn  ;  for  he  printed 
a  poem  entitled  "  Vida  y  Maitirio  de 
Santa  Inez,"  Alcala,  1592,  written  after 
the  Toledaua. 

28  i<  Orlando  Enamorado  de  Don  Mai'- 
tin  de  Bolea  y  Castro,"  Lerida,  1578  ;  — 
"  Orlando  Determinado,  en  Octava  Ri- 
ma,"  Zaragoza,  1578.  (Ijatassa,  Bib. 
Nov.,  Tom.  II.  p.  54,  and  Gayaiigo.s 
ad  loc.)  —  The  "Orlando  Enamorado  ' 
of  Boiardo  is  by  Francisco  Garrido  de 
Villena,  1577,  and  the  "  Venhidero  Su- 
ceso  de  la  Batalla  de  Roncesvalles  "  is 
by  the  same,  1583.  (Antonio,  Bib. 
Nov.,  Tom.  I.  p.  428.)— "Historiade 
las  Hazanas  y  Hechos  del  Iiivciicible 
Cavallero  Bernardo  del  ("ai)iio,  jior 
Agustin  Alonso,"  Toledo,  1585.  Pel- 
licer  (Don  Quixote,  Tom.  I.  p.  58, 
note)  says  he  had  seen  one  coj)y  of 
this  book,  and  Clemenein  says  he  never 
saw  any.  —  I  have  never  met  with  either 
of  those  referred  to  in  this  note. 


568  LUIS    BARAIIOXA    DK    SOTO.  [Pr.r.ioi)  I[. 

Not  SO  the  "Angelica  "  of  Luis  Barahoiia  de  Soto,  or, 
as  it   is  commonly   called,  '-The   Tears  of  Angelica." 
The   first  twelve   cantos  were  puhlished  in   158G,  and 
received  by  the  men  of  letters  of  that  age  with  an  ex- 
traordinary applause,  which  has  continued  to  be  echoed 
and  re-echoed  down  to  our  own  times.     Its  author  was 
a  physician  in  an  obscure  village  near  Seville,  but  he 
was   known  as  a  poet  throughout  Spain,  and  praised 
alike  l)y  Diego  de  Mendoza,  Silvestre,  Herrera,  Cetina, 
Mesa,  Lope  de  Vega,  and  Cervantes,  —  the  last  of  whom 
makes  the  curate  hasten  to  save  "  The  Tears  of  An- 
gelica"  from  the  flames,  when   Don   Quixote's  library 
was  carried  to  the   cour1>yard,  crying  out,  "  Truly,  I 
should    shed    tears    myself,  if  such  a  book  had  been 
burnt;    for   its   author  was   one    of  the  most   famoiLs 
poets,  not  only  of  Spain,  but  of  the  whole  world."     All 
this   admiration,  however,  was   extravagant;    and    in 
Cervantes,  who  more  than  once  steps  aside  from  the 
subject  on  which  he  happens  to  be  engaged  to  praise 
Soto,  it  seems  to  have   been   the   result  of  a  sincere 
personal  friendship. 

The  truth   is,  that  the  Angelica,  although  so  much 
praised,  was  never  finished  or  reprinted,  and  is  now 
rarely  seen  and  more  rarely  read.     It  is  a  continuation 
of  the  "Orlando  Furioso,"  and  relates  the  story  of  the 
heroine  after  her  marriage,  down  to  the  time  when  she 
recovers  her  kingdom  of  Cathay,  which  had  been  vio- 
lently wrested   from   her  by  a  rival  queen.     It  is  ex- 
travagant in  its  adventures,  and  awkward  in  its  machin- 
er}',  especially  in  whatever  relates  to  Demogorgon  and 
the  agencies  under  his  control.     But  its  chief 
*483    fault  is  its  dulness.     Its  *  whole  movement  is  as 
far  as  possible  unlike  the  brilliant  life  and  gay- 
^    ety  of  its  great   prototype  ;  and,  as  if  to  add   to   the 


Chap.  XXVII. J         ]5.Vl.HrENA,    THE    UEKNAKDO.  569 

Avearisomeness  of  its  uninteresting  characters  and  lan- 
guid style,  one  of  De  Soto's  friends  has  added  to  each 
canto  a  prose  explanation  of  its  imagined  moral  mean- 
ings and  tendency,  which,  in  a  great  majority  of  cases, 
it  seems  impossible  should  have  been  in  the  author's 
mind  when  he  wrote  the  poem.^^ 

Of  the  still  more  extravagant  continuation  of  the 
"  Orlando"  by  Lope  de  Vega,  we  have  already  spoken  ; 
and  of  the  fragment  on  the  same  subject  by  Quevedo, 
it  is  not  necessary  to  speak  at  all.  But  the  '-  Ber- 
nardo "  of  Balbuena,  which  belongs  to  the  same  period, 
must  not  be  overlooked.  It  is  one  of  the  two  or  three 
favored  poems  of  its  class  in  the  language ;  written  in 
the  fervor  of  the  author's  youth,  and  published  in  1624, 
when  his  age  and  ecclesiastical  honors  made  him  doubt 
whether  his  dignity  would  permit  him  any  longer  to 
claim  it  as  his  own. 

It  is  on  the  constantly  recurring  subject  of  Bernardo 
del  Carpio ;  but  it  takes  from  the  old  traditions  only 
the  slight  outline  of  that  hero's  history,  and  then  fills 
up  the  space  between  his  first  presentation  at  the  court 
of  his  uncle,  Alfonso  the  Chaste,  and  the  death  of  Ro- 
land at  Roncesvalles,  with  enchantments  and  giants, 
travels  through  the  air  and  over  the  sea,  in  countries 
known  and  in  countries  impossible,  amidst  adventures 
as  wild  as  the  fancies  of  Ariosto,  and  more  akin  to  his 
free  and  joyous  spirit  than  anything  else  of  the  sort  in 
the  language.     Many  of  the  descriptions  are  rich  and 

29  w  Pi'imera  Parte  de  la  Angelica  de  able  social  relations  is  to  be  gathered 
Luis  Barahona  de  Soto,"  Granada,  1586,  from  a  poetical  epistle  to  hini  by  Chris- 
4to.  My  copy  contains  a  JIS.  license  to  toval  de  Mesa  (Rimas,  1611,  f.  200)  ;  — 
rej)rint  from  it,  dated  July  1 5, 1 805  ;  but,  from  several  poems  in  Silvestre  (ed.  1 599, 
like  many  other  projects  of  the  sort  in  ff.  325,  333,  334)  ;  —  and  from  the  no- 
relation  to  old  Spanish  literature,  this  tices  of  him  by  Cervantes  in  his  "Gala- 
one  was  not  carried  through.  A  notice  tea,"  and  in  the  Don  Quixote,  (Parte  I. 
of  De  Soto  is  to  be  found  in  Sedano  c.  6,  and  Parte  II.  e.  1,)  togetlier  with: 
(Parnaso,  Tom.  II.  p.  xxxi)  ;  but  the  the  facts  collected  in  the  two  last  places 
pleasantest  idea  of  hiin  and  of  his  agree-  by  the  commentatoi's. 


070  BALBFEXA,  THP:  BERNARDO.      [Pkkk.i-  II. 

beautiful ;  worthy  of  the  author  of  ••  The  Age  of  Gold  " 
and  "  The  Grandeur  of  Mexico."  Some  of  the 
*  484  episodes  are  *  full  of  interest  in  themselves,  and 
happy  in  their  position.  Its  general  structure  is 
fruited  to  the  rules  of  its  class,  —  if  rules  there  be  for 
such  a  poem  as  the  '•  Orlando  Furioso."  And  the  ver- 
sification is  almost  always  good  ;  —  easy  where  facility 
is  required,  and  grave  or  solemn,  as  the  subject  changes 
and  becomes  more  lofty.  But  it  has  one  capital  defect. 
It  is  fatallv  louii;,  —  thrice  as  lono;  as  the  Iliad.  There 
seems,  in  truth,  as  we  read  on,  no  end  to  its  episodes, 
which  are  involved  in  each  other  till  we  entirely  lose 
the  thread  that  connects  them  ;  and  as  for  its  crowds 
of  characters,  they  come  like  shadows,  and  so  depart, 
leaving  often  no  trace  behind  them,  except  a  most  in- 
distinct recollection  of  their  w  ild  adventures.^ 

^  "  El  Bernardo,  Poema  Heroico  del  in  tlie  second  volume  of  liis  "Poesias 

Doctor   Don    Bernardo  de   Balbuena,"  Selectas,  Mnsa  Epica,"  witli  skill  and 

Madrid,  1624,  4to,   and  1808,   3  torn,  judgment,  to  less  than  one  tliird  of  tliat 

8vo,  containing  about  forty -five  thou-  length, 
sand  Unes,  but  abridged  by  Quintaua, 


*  CHAPTER    XXYIII.  *4Rn 

NARRATIVE  POEMS  ON  SUBJECTS  FROM  CLASSICAL  ANTIQUITY.  —  BOSCAN,  MEN- 
DOZA,  SILVESTRE,  MONTEMAYOR,  VILLEGAS,  PEREZ,  CEPEDA,  GONGORA,  VIL- 
LAMEDIANA,  PANTALEON,  AND  OTHERS. NARRATIVE  POEMS  ON  MISCELLA- 
NEOUS   SUB.IECTS. SALAS,    SILVEIRA,    ZARATE. MOCK-HEROIC    NARRATIVE 

POEMS. ALDAXA,    CHRESPO,    VILLAVICIOSA    AND    IIIS    BIOStJUEA. SEKIOIS 

HISTORICAL    POEMS. CORTEREAL,  RUFO,  VEZILLA    CASTELLANOS    AND    OTH- 
ERS,   MESA,    CUEVA,     EL    PINCIANO,    MOSQUERA,    VASCONCELLOS,     FERREIRA, 

FIGUEROA,    ESQUILACHE. FAILURE    OF    NARRATIVE    AND     HEROIC    POETRY 

ON    NATIONAL    SUBJECTS. 

• 

There  was  little  tendency  in  Spain,  during  the  six- 
teenth and  seventeenth  centuries,  to  take  subjects  for 
the  long  narrative  and  heroic  poems  that  were  so  char- 
acteristic of  the  country  from  ancient  history  or  fable. 
Shorter  and  in  general  more  interesting  tales,  imbued 
with  the  old  national  spirit,  were,  however,  early  at- 
tempted out  of  classical  materials.  The  "  Leander  "  of 
Boscan,  a  gentle  and  pleasing  poem,  in  about  three 
thousand  lines  of  blank  verse,  is  to  be  dated  as  early 
as  1540,  and  is  one  of  them.  Diego  de  Mendoza,  Bos- 
can's  friend,  followed,  with  his  "  Adonis,  Hippomenes, 
and  Atalanta,"  but  in  the  Italian  octave  stanza,  and  with 
less  success.  Silvestre's  "  Daphne  and  Apollo"  and  his 
"  Pyramus  and  Thisbe,"  both  of  them  written  in  the 
old  Castilian  verse,  are  of  the  same  period  and  more  at- 
tractive, but  they  were  unfortunate  in  their  effects, 
if  they  provoked  the  poenjs  on  "  Pyramus  and  Thisbe  " 
by  Montemayor  and  by  Antonio  Villegas,  or  that  on 
"  Daphne "  by  Perez,  in  the  second  book  of  his  con- 
tinuation of  the  "  Diana."  ^ 

1  The  story  of  "  Leander  "  fills  a  large.      Garcilasso's  Works  in  the  original  edi- 
part  of  the  third  book  of  Boscan  and      tion   of   1543.  — Diego   de   Mendoza's 


572  NARRATIVE    CLASSICAL    POEMS.  [Peiuod  IL 

*  486  *  The  more  formal  effort  of  Romero  de  Cepeda 
on  ••  The  Destruction  of  Tro} -,"  published  in  1582, 
is  not  better  than  the  rest.  It  has,  however,  the  merit 
of  being  written  more  in  the  old  national  tone  than 
almost  anything  of  the  kind  ;  for  it  is  in  the  ancient 
stanza  of  ten  short  lines,  and  has  a  fluency  and  facilitj' 
that  make  it  sound  sometimes  like  the  elder  ballad 
poetr}^  But  it  extends  to  ten  cantos,  and  is,  after  all, 
tlie  stor}'  to  which  we  have  alwa^-s  been  accustomed, 
except  that  it  makes  ^neas  —  against  whom  the  Span- 
ish poets  and  chroniclers  seem  to  have  entertained  a 
thorough  ill-will  —  a  traitor  to  his  country  and  an 
accomplice  in  its  ruin.^  * 

"  Adonis,"  which  is  about  half  as  long,  are  sometimes  agreeable.    The  next  j'ear, 

and  on  which  the  old  statesman  is  said  1583,  he  published,  partly  in  prose  and 

to  have  valued  himself  veiy  much,  is  in  partly  in  ballad  verse,  wliieh  is  not  al- 

his  Works,  1610,  pp.  48-65.  —  Silves-  waj'sbad,  a  small  popular  book  entitled 

tre's  poems,  mentioned  in  the  text,  with  "La  antigua,  memorable  y  sangrienta 

Two  othei-s,  something  like  them,  make  destruycion  de  Troya,  recojnlada  de  di- 

up  the  whole  of  the  second  book  of  his  ver.sos  autores,"  (Toledo,   1583,  12mo, 

Works,  1599. — Montemayor's  "  Ppa-  150  ff.,)  but  Lucas  Gracian  certified  to 

mus,"  in  the  short  ten-line  stanzas,  is  its  hamilessness  in  1581,  and  the  colo- 

at  the  end  of  the  "Diana,"  in  the  edi-  phon  is  dated  1584  ;  —  so  that  it  was 

tionof  1614.  —  The  "  PjTamus  "  of  Ant.  probably  written   before  his   "  Infelice 

de  Villegas  is  in  his  "Inventario,"  1577,  Robo  de  Helena,"  and  published  after 

and  is  in  terza  ririui,  which,  like  the  it.     It  is  {loor  enough.     From  .some  of 

other   Italian  measures   attempited   by  the  descriptions  of  Helen,  Ajax,  etc., 

him,    he    manages    awkwardly.  —  The  one   might    .suppose   that    Cepeda   was 

"  Daphne  "  of  Perez  is  in  various  meas-  their  personal    acquaintance,   and  was 

ures,  and  better  deserves  reading  in  old  drawing  from  the  life.     But  this  is  not 

Bart.  Yong's  version  of  it  than  it  does  wor.se  tlian  Berosus  and  Dares  Phiygius, 

in  the  original.  —  I  might  have  added  in  whom  he  confides  implicitly,  rel3-ing 

to   the    foregoing   the    "  Pwamus   and  on  them  as  sufficient  authorities  to  con- 

Thisbe"  of  Castillejo,  (Obras,  1598,  fl".  tradict  Homer. 

68,  etc.,)  jileasantly  written  in  the  old         The  poem  of  Manuel  de  Gallegos,  en- 

Castilian    short    verse,    when    he   was  titled  "  Gigantomachia,"  and  published 

twenty-eight  yeai-s  old,    and  living  in  at  Lisbon,  1628,  4to,  is  also,  like  that 

Germany  ;  but  it  is  so  much  a  transla-  of  Cepeda,  on  a  classical  subject,  being 

tion  fiom  0\id,  tbat  it  hardly  belongs  devoted  to  the  war  of  the  Giants  against 

here.  the  Gods.     Its  author  was  a  Portugue-se, 

-  Obras   de  Romero  de  Cepeda,   Se-  who  lived  many  years  at  Madrid  in  in- 
v\\\a,  1582,  4to.     The  poem  alluded  to  •  timacy  with  Lojie  de  Vega,  and  wrote 

i-s  entitled  "El  Infelice  Robo  de  Elena  occasionally  for  the  Spanish  stage,  but 

Rej-na  de   E.sparta   por   Paris,   hifa-fdc,  returned  at  la.st  to  his  native  country, 

Troyano,    del   qua!  sucedio  la  Sangri-  and  died  there  in  1665.     His  "  Gigau- 

enta  Destruycion  de   Troya."      It  tje-  tomachia,"  in  about  three  hundred  and 

gins  ah  ovo  I^dm,  and,  going  through  forty  octave  stunzas,   diWded  into  five 

about  two  thou.sand   lines,   ends  with  sliort  book.s,  is  written,  for  tlie  period 

the  death  of  six  liundred  thou.sand  Tro-  when  it  appeared,  in  a  pure  style,  but 

jans.    The  sliorter  poems  in  the  volume  is  a  very  dull  poem. 


Chap.  XXVIIL]      NARRATIVE    CLASSICAL    POEMS.  573 

*  But  with  the  appearance  of  Gongora,  sini-  *  487 
plicity  such  as  Cepeda's  ceased  in  this  class  of 
poems  ahnost  entirely.  Nothing,  indeed,  was  more 
characteristic  of  the  extravagance  in  which  this  great 
poetical  heresiarch  indulged  himself  than  his  mon- 
strous narrative  poem,  —  half  jesting,  half  serious,  and 
wholly  absurd,  —  which  he  called  "  The  Fable  of  Poly- 
phemus"; and  nothing  became  more  characteristic  of 
his  school  than  the  similar  poems  in  imitation  of  the 
Polyphemus  which  commonly  passed  under  the  desig- 
nation he  gave  them,  —  that  of  Fdbulas.  Such  were 
the  "Phaeton,"  the  "Daphne,"  and  the  "  Europa  "  of 
his  great  admirer,  Count  Villamediana.  Such  were 
several  poems  by  Pantaleon,  and,  among  them,  his 
"  Fabula  de  Eco,"  which  he  dedicated  to  Gongora. 
Such  were  Moncayo's  "  Atalanta,"  a  long  heroic  poem 
in  twelve  cantos,  published  as  a  separate  work ;  and 
his  "  Venus  and  Adonis,"  found  among  his  miscellanies. 
And  such,  too,  were  Villalpando's  "  Love  Enamored,  or 
Cupid  and  Psyche " ;  and  several  more  of  the  same 
class  and  with  the  same  name ;  —  all  worthless,  and  all 
published  between  the  time  when  Gongora  appeared 
and  the  end  of  the  century.^ 

Gayaugos  mentions  an  earlier  "Gi-         ^  These  poems  are  all  to  be  found  in 

gantomacliia "  by  Fi-ancisco  de  Sando-  the  works  of  their  respective  authors, 

val,  (Zaragoza,  1630,)  and  adds,  that  he  elsewhere  referred  to,  except  two.     The 

l)ublished  a  volume  of  poems,  entitled  first  is  the   "Atalanta  y  Hipomenes," 

"  Rasgos  de  Ocio,"  8vo,  without  date.  by  Moncayo,    Marques  de  San  Felice, 

A  narrative  poem  in  a  hundred  and  (Zaragoza,  1656,  4to,)  in  octave  stanzas, 

thirty-four   octave   stanzas,   by  Doctor  about  eight  thousand  lines  long,  in  which 

Antonio  Gual,    was  published  at   Na-  he  manages  to  introduce  much  of  the 

pies,   apparently  in  1637,   to  win  the  history  of  Aragon,  his  native  country  ; 

favor  of  the  Duchess  of  Medina  de  las  a  general  account  of  its  men  of  letters, 

Torres,  wife  of  the  Viceroy.     I  have  a  who  were  his  contemporaries  ;  and,  in 

copy  of  it,  but  can  find  no  notice  of  it  canto  fifth,  all  the  Aragonese  ladies  he 

or  of  its  author.     It  is  an  extravagant  admired,  whose  number  is  not  small, 

and   incredible   love-story,    sometimes  The  other  poem  is  the  "Amor  Enamo- 

gracefuUy  told, — •  sometimes  with  such  rado,"    which   Jacinto    de    Villalpando 

affectations  as  were  common  during  the  published   (Zaragoza,   1655,    ItZino)   un- 

reign    of    Gongorism  ;  —  but,    on    the  der  the  name  of  "  Fabio  Clymente  "  ; 

whole,    it   is   better   than   the   average  and  which,  like  the  last,  is  in  octave 

of  its  class.  stanzas,   but  only  about   half  as  long. 


574  HEROIC    POEMS. SALAS.  [Pkriod  II. 

*  488  ^  Of  heroic  poems  on  miscollaneoiis  subjects, 
a  few  were  produced  during  the  same  period, 
but  none  of  value.  The  first  that  needs  to  be  men- 
tioned is  that  of  Yague  de  Salas,  on  ''  The  Lovers  of 
Teruel."  pul)hshed  in  1616,  and  preceded  by  an  ex- 
traordinary array  of  Laudatory  verses,  among  which  are 
sonnets  by  Lope  de  Vega  and  Cervantes.  It  is  on  the 
tragical  fate  of  two  young  and  faithful  lo\ers.  who, 
after  the  most  cruel  trials,  died  at  almost  the  same 
moment,  victims  of  their  passion  for  each  other,  — 
the  story  on  which,  as  we  have  already  noticed,  Mon- 
talvan  founded  one  of  his  best  dramas.  Salas  calls  his 
poem  a  tragic  epic,  and  it  consists  of  twenty-six  long 
cantos,  comprehending  not  only  the  sad  tale  of  the 
lovers  themselves,  which  really  ends  in  the  seven- 
teenth canto,  but  a  large  part  of  the  history  of  the 
kingdom  of  Aragon  and  the  whole  history  of  the  little 
town  of  Teruel.  He  declares  his  story  to  be  absolutely 
authentic ;  and  in  the  Preface  he  appeals  for  the  truth 
of  his  assertion  to  the  traditions  of  Teruel,  of  whose 
municipality  he  had  formerly  been  syndic  and  was 
then  secretary. 

But  his   statements  were   early  called  in  question, 

See,  also,   Latassa,   Bib.    Nuova,  Tom.  ems  of  the  same  sort,  such  as  "  La  Luna 

III.  p.   272.     To  these  shouhl  be  add-  y  Endiniion,"  by  ^Lanelo  Diaz  Calle- 

ed  the  " Fdbula  de  Cupido  y  Psyches,"  cerrada,  "La  Atahmta,"  by  Cespedes, 

by  Don   Gabriel  de  Henao' Monxazaz,  "Jupiter  y  Enropa,"    by   Jusepe   La- 

(Zaragoza,   1620,   r2mo,  ])p.   ]02, )   not  porta,  etc.  ;  but  none  seems  to  be  worth 

better  than  its  fellows;  and  t]u-  Fdbu-  more  than  a  passing  notice.    An  attempt 

las  of  Theseus  and  Ariadne,  and  of  Hip-  was  made  in  the  eighteenth  century  to 

pomenes  and  Atalanta,  by  Jliguel  Co-  revive  something  like  this  .style  of  nar- 

lodrero  de  Villalobos,  a  young  man  of  rativc  j)oetry,  or  a  parody  on  it,  in  "El 

Baena,  who  published  at  Cordoba,  in  Eabulero  ])or  Francisco  Nieto  Jlolina," 

1629,  a  small  volume  of  poems,  chiefly  (Madrid,    1764,    4to,)    where    we    have 

sonnets,  ejagrams,  etc.,  which  was  sue-  jesting  versions  of  the  stories  of  Poly- 

ceeded  in   1642  by  another,  called  af-  phemus,  Arethusa,  Leander,  etc.,  often 

fecteiUy   "(Jolosinas   de    Ingenios,"  or  written  in  a  better  style  than  was  eom- 

Sweetmeats  for  Wits.  —  He  admired  and  mon  in  his  time  ;  but  like  his  "  Perro- 

foUowed  Gongora,  and  addressed  one  of  mai(uia,"  published  in  1765,  they  are 

hLs  ])oems  to  liim.  of  small  value. 
Gayaiigos  mentions  .several  other  po- 


Chap.  XXVIII.]  SALAS.  575 

and,  to  sustain  them,  he  produced,  m  1619,  the  copy 
of  a  paper  which  he  professed  to  have  found  in  the 
archives  of  Teruel,  and  Avhich  contains,  imder  the  (late 
of  1217,  a  full  account  of  the  two  lovers,  with  a  notice 
of  the  discovery  and  reinterment  of  their  unchanged 
bodies  in  the  church  of  San  Pedro,  in  1555.  This 
seems  to  have  quieted  the  doubts  that  had  been  raised  ; 
and  for  a  long  time  afterwards,  poets  and  tragic  writers 
resorted  freely  to  a  story  so  truly  Spanish  in  its  union 
of  love  and  religion,  as  if  its  authenticity  were  no 
longer  questionable.  But  since  1806,  when  the  facts 
and  documents  in  relation  to  it  were  collected  and 
published,  there  seems  no  reasonable  doubt  that  the 
whole  is  a  fiction,  founded  on  a  tradition  already  used 
by  Artieda  in  a  dull  drama,  and  still  floating 
about  at  the  time  when  Salas  lived,  to  *  which,  *  489 
when  urged  by  his  sceptical  neighbors,  he  gave 
a  distinct  form.  But  the  popular  faith  was  too  well 
settled  to  be  disturbed  by  antiquarian  investigations, 
and  the  remains  of  the  lovers  of  Teruel  in  the  cloisters 
of  Saint  Peter  are  still  visited  by  faithful  and  devout 
hearts,  who  look  upon  them  wdth  sincere  awe,  as  mys- 
terious witnesses  left  there  by  Heaven,  that  they  may 
testify,  through  all  generations,  to  the  truth  and  beauty 
of  a  love  stronger  than  the  grave.'* 

*  "Los  Amantes  de  Teruel,  Epopeya  por  Don  Isidro  de  Antillon  "  (Madrid, 
Tvagica,  con  la  Restauracion  de  Espafia  1806,  18mo) ;  —  a  respectable  Professor 
por  la  Parte  de  Sobrarbe  y  Conciuista  of  History  in  the  College  of  the  Nobles 
del  Reino  de  Valencia,  por  Juan  Yague  at  Madrid.  (Latassa,  Bib.  Nueva, 
de  Salas,"  Valencia,  1616,  12mo.  The  Tom.  VI.  p.  123.)  It  leavq,s  no  reason- 
latter  part  of  it  is  much  occupied  with  able  doubt  about  the  forgery  of  Salas, 
a  certain  Friar  John  and  a  certain  Friar  which,  moreover,  is  done  verj'  clumsily. 
Peter,  who  were  gi-eat  saints  in  Teiiiel,  Ford,  in  his  admiralde  "IIand-P>ook  of 
and  with  the  conquest  of  Valencia  by  Spain,"  (London,  1845,  8vo,  p.  874,) 
Don  Jaume  of  Aragon.  The  poetry  of  implies  that  tlie  tomb  of  the  lovers  is 
the  whole,  it  is  not  necessary  to  add,  is  still  much  visitc^d.  It  stands  now  in 
naught.  The  antiquarian  investigation  the  cloisters  of  St.  Peter,  whither,  in 
•of  the  truth  of  the  story  of  the  lovers  is  1709,  in  conseiiuence  of  alterations  in 
in  a  modest  pamphlet  entitled  "Noticias  the  church,  their  bodies  were  removed  ; 
Historicas  sobre  los  Amantes  de  Teruel,  — much  decayed,  .says  Antillon,   not- 


•576  blL\  KUIA. ZAKATi:.  [rKiauD  11, 

The  attempt  of  Lope  de  Vega,  in  his  ••  Jerusalem 
Conquered,"  to  rival  Tasso,  turned  the  thoughts  of 
other  ambitious  poets  in  the  same  direction,  and  the 
(|uick  result  was  two  so-called  epics  that  are  not  (juite 
forgotten.  The  first  is  the  '■■  Macabeo "  of  Silveira,  a 
Portuguese,  who,  after  living  long  at  the  court  of  Spain, 
accompanied  the  head  of  the  great  house  of  the  Guz- 
mans  when  that  nobleman  was  made  viceroy  of  Naples, 
and  published  there,  in  1638,  this  poem,  to  the  com- 
position of  which  he  had  given  twenty-two  years. 
The  subject  is  the  restoration  of  Jerusalem  by  Judas 
Maccaba?us,  —  the  same  which  Tasso  had  at  one  time 
chosen  for  his  own  epic.  But  Silveira  had  not  the 
genius  of  Tasso.  He  has,  it  is  true,  succeeded  in  filling 
twenty  cantos  with  octave  stanzas,  as  Tasso  did  ;  but 
there  the  resemblance  stops.  The  "  Macabeo.'* 
*  490  besides  being  *  written  in  the  affected  st3'le  of 
Gongora,  is  wanting  in  spirit,  interest,  and  po- 
etr}'  throughout.^ 

The  other  contemporary  poem  of  the  same  class  is 
better,  but  does  not  rise  to  the  dignity  of  success.  It 
is  by  Zarate,  a  poet  long  attached  to  Rodrigo  Calderon, 
the  adventurer  who,  under  the  title  of  Marques  de  Siete 
Iglesias,  rose  to  the  first  places  in  the  state  in  the  time 
of  Philip  the  Third,  and  employed  Zarate  as  one  of  his 
secretaries.  Zarate,  however,  was  gentle  and  wise,  and. 
having  occupied  himself  much  with  poetr}-  in  the  daya 

withstanding  the  claim  set  up  that  they  time,  but  adds  nothing  to  its  probabil- 

are    imi»erishable.      The   story   of  the  ity.     Sen  ante,  jtj).  316-319. 

lovers  of  Teruel  has  often  been  resorted  ^  "  Kl  ilacabeo,    Poenia  Heioieo  de 

to,  and,  among  others  in  our  ovni  time,  Miguel  de  .Silveira,"  Xiipoles,  1638,  4to. 

Viy  .Juan  Eugenio  Harzenbusch,  in  his  Castro    (Biblioteca,    Tom.    I.    p.    626) 

drama,  "  Los  Amantes  de  Teruel,"  and  makes  Silveira  a  converted  Jew,   and 

by  an  anonymous  author  in  a  tale  with  Barbosa  places  his  death  in  1636  ;  but 

the  same  title,  that  appeared   at  Va-  the  dedication  of  his  "Sol  Vencido,"  a 

lencia,    1838,   2   tom.    ISmo.       In   the  short,  worthless  ])oeni,  written  to  Hatter 

Preface  to  the  last,  another  of  the  cer-  the  Vi(t'-(Juccn  of  Naples,  is  dated  20th 

tificates  of  Vague  de  .Salas  to  the  truth  April,  1639,  and  was  printed  there  that 

of  the  story  is  j)roduced   for  the   lii-st  year. 


fJiiAP.  XXVllI.]  MOCK-HEROICS.  ()  t  I 

of  his  prosperity,  found  it  a  pleiisant  resource  in  the 
days  of  adversitj.  In  1048,  he  published  "  The  Dis- 
covery of  the  Cross,"  which,  if  we  may  trust  jui  inti- 
mation in  the  '•  Pei-siles  and  Sigismmida  "  of  Cervantes, 
he  must  have  begun  thirty  years  before,  and  whicli 
had  undoubtedly  been  finished  and  hcensed  twenty 
years  when  it  appeared  in  print.  But  Zarate  mistoolv 
the  nature  of  his  subject.  Instead  of  confining  him- 
self to  the  pious  traditions  of  the  Empress  Helena  and 
the  ascertained  achievements  of  Constantine  against 
Maxentius,  he  has  filled  up  his  canvas  with  an  impos- 
sible and  uninteresting  contest  between  Constantine 
and  an  imaginary  king  of  Persia  on  the  banks  of  the 
Euphrates,  and  so  made  out  a  long  poem,  little  con- 
nected in  its  different  parts,  and,  though  dry  and  mo- 
notonous in  its  general  tone,  unequal  in  its  execution ; 
some  portions  of  it  being  simple  and  dignified,  while 
others  show  a  taste  almost  as  bad  as  that  which  dis- 
figures the  "  Macabeo "  of  Silveira,  and  of  quite  the 
same  sort.^ 

But  there  was  always  a  tendency  to  a  spirit 
of  caricature  *in  Spanish  literature,  —  perhaps  *  491 
owing  to  its  inherent  stateliness  and  dignity; 
for  these  are  qualities  which,  when  carried  to  excess, 
almost  surely  provoke  ridicule.  At  least,  as  we  know, 
parody  appeared  early  among  the  ballads,  and  was 
always  prominent  in  the  theatres ;  to  say  nothing  of 
romantic    fiction,    where    Don    Quixote    is    the    great 

^   "Poema  Heroico  de  la  Invencion  is   sufficient;   hut   that  hv   Antonio   is 

tie  la  Cruz,   por  Fr.  Lopez  de  Zarate,"  more  touching,  and  reads  like  a  tribute 

Madrid,  1648,  4to  ;   twenty-two  cantos  of   personal    regard.       Zarate    died    in 

and  four  hundred  pages  of  octave  stau-  1658,  above  seventy  years  old.     Sema- 

zas.     The  infernal  councils  and  many  nario  Pintoresco,  1845,  p.  82.     Cervan- 

other  parts  show  it  to  be  an  imitation  tes  praises  him  l)eyond  all  reason  iu  his 

of  Tasso.      The  notice  of  his   life  by  Persiles  y  Sigismunda,   Lib.    IV.  caj). 

Sedano  (Parnaso,  Tom.  VIll.  p.  xxiv)  6,  and  elsewhere. 
VOL.   II.                                 37 


578  MOCK-HEROICS.  [Pkuiod  ii. 

luoniiiiient  of  its   glory  for   all   countries   and   for   all 
ages." 

That  the  long  and  multitudinous  narrative  poems  of 
Spain  should  call  forth  mock-heroics  was,  therefore,  in 
keeping  with  the  rest  of  the  national  character;  and 
though  the  number  of  snch  caricatures  is  not  large, 
they  have  a  merit  quite  ecpial  to  that  of  their  serious 
prototypes.  The  lirst  in  the  order  of  time  seems  to  be 
lost.  It  was  written  by  Cosme  de  Aldana,  who,  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  sixteenth  century,  was  attached  to 
the  Grand  Constable  Velasco,  when  he  was  sent  to 
govern  Milan.  In  his  capacity  of  poet,  Aldana  un- 
happily plied  his  master  with  flattery  and  sonnets,  till 
one  day  the  Constable  fjiirly  besought  liim  to  desist, 
and  called  him  "  an  ass."  The  cavalier  could  not  draw 
his  sword  on  his  friend  and  jiatron,  but  the  poet  deter- 
mined to  aveno^e  the  affront  offered  to  his  genius.  He 
did  so  in  a  long  poem,  entitled  the  '•  Asneida,"  which, 
on  every  page,  seemed  to  cr}^  out  to  the  governor, 
'•  You  are  a  greater  ass  than  I  am."  But  it  was  hardly 
finished  when  the  unhappy  Aldana  died,  and  the  copies 
of  his  poem  Avere  so  diligently  sought  for  and  so  faith- 
fully destroyed,  that  it  seems  to  be  one  of  the  few 
books  we  should  be  curious  to  see,  which,  after  having 
been  once  printed,  have  entirely  disappeared  from  the 
world. ^ 

"  The  continual  parody  of  the  _r/wc/i9.sY)  wliicli  is  a  parody  of  a  play  with  the 

on  the  hero  shows  what  was  the  tendency  same  title  in  the  Oomedias  de  Lope  de 

of  the  Spanish  stage  in  this  particular.  Vega,  Vol.  XXIV.,  Zaragoza,  1641. 
But  there  are  also  i)lays  tliat  are  entii'c-  ^  Cosme  was  editor  of  the  poems  of 

ly  hurlesrjue,   such   as   "The  Deatli  of  liis  brother,    Francisco   de   Aldana,    in 

I'aldovinos,"    at    the    end   of  Cancer's  1593.     (Antonio,   Bib.   Nov.,  Tom.   I. 

Works,  1651,  which  is  a  parody  on  the  ]>.    "i.'ie.)      He   wrote    in    Italian    and 

old    ballads   and   traditions   respecting  ])rinte<l  at  Florence  as  early  as  1578  ; 

lliat  jialadin  ;  and  the  "Cavallero  de  but    Velasco   did   not   go    as  governor 

Olmedo,"  a  favorite  play,  liy  Francis-  to    Mihni    till    after    1586.       (Salazar, 

CO  Felix  de  Monteser,  which  is  in  the  Dignidade.s,    f.    131.)      The    only    ac- 

voluine  entitle<l    "  Mejor   Libro   de   las  count   I    have  seen  of  the   "Asneida" 

Mejori's  Cniiiiili:!^,"   Miidrid,  1653,  and  is  in   Figueroa's  "  Pasagero,"  1617,   f. 


CiiAi'.  XXVIll.]  THE    CHRESPINA.  579 

*  Tlic  next  niock-luM-oic  has  also  sometliinsr  *  492 
mysterious  about  it.  It  is  called '•  The  Death, 
Burial,  and  Ilonoi's  of  Chrespina  Marauzmana,  the  Cat 
of  Juan  Chrespo,"  and  was  published  at  Paris  m  1604, 
inider  what  seems  to  be  the  pseudonyme  of  "  Cintio 
Merctisso."  The  first  canto  gives  an  account  of  Chres- 
pina's  death;  the  second,  of  the  pesames  or  condolences 
offered  to  her  children  ;  and  the  third  and  last,  of  the 
public  tributes  to  her  memory,  including  the  sermon 
preached  at  her  interment.  The  whole  is  done  in  the 
true  spirit  of  such  a  poem,  —  grave  in  form,  and  quaint 
and  amusing  in  its  details.  Thus,  when  the  children 
are  gathered  round  the  death-bed  of  their  venerable 
mother,  among  other  directions  and  commands,  she 
tells  them  very  solemnly  :  — 

Uj)  in  the  coucaye  of  the  tih's,  and  near 

That  firm-set  wall  the  north  wind  whistles  by, 

Close  to  the  spot  the  crieket  chose  last  year, 
In  a  blind  corner,  far  from  every  eye, 

Beneath  a  brick  that  hides  the  treasure  dear, 
Five  choice  sardines  in  secret  darkness  lie  ;  — 

These,  brethren-like,  1  charge  yoti,  take  by  shares, 

And  also  all  the  rest,  to  which  you  may  be  heirs. 

Moreover,  you  will  find,  in  heaps  piled  fiiir,  — • 
Proofs  of  successful  toil  to  build  a  name,  — 

A  thousand  wings  and  legs  of  birds  picked  bare, 
And  cloaks  of  quadrupeds,  both  wild  and  tame. 

All  which  your  father  had  collected  there. 
To  serve  as  trophies  of  an  honest  fame  ;  — 

These  keep,  and  count  them  better  than  all  ])rey  ; 

Nor  give  them,  e'en  for  ease,  or  sleep,  or  life,  away.^ 

127.     Its  loss  is  probably  not  a  great  thirteen  leaves,  printed  in  Milan  with- 

one,  says  Gayangos,  if  we  are  to  judge  out  date,  and  is  entitled  "Versos  de 

by  a  volume  of  poems  which  he  pub-  Cosme  de  Aldana  a  su  Capitan  General 

lished  at  Madrid  in  1591,  entitled  "  In-  y   Senor,   el   illustriss.    y   excellentiss. 

vectiva   contra  el  Vulgo   y  su   Maldi-  Sc^nor  Juan    Fernandez    Velasco,   Con- 

cencia"  ;   which  is  full  of  bad    taste.  destable  de  Castilla.     The  flatterj'-,  no 

It    may    be    found    reprinted    in    the  doubt,   outweighs   the   poetry.  —  It   is 

Biblioteca  de  Autores  Espanoles,  Tom.  not  in  the  Biljlioteca  of  Kivadeneyra. 
XXXVI.,  18.55.     I  have  a  copy  of  the         ,  „    , 

unhappy  collection  of  poems  that  pro-  ^^  rjlilll^illl.l^l.l^'^JllSo, 

Voked    the    Constables    ire.        It    is    in  Junto  aUunUe  uionua  autuno  el  grillo, 


580  THE    MOSQUEA.  [PKiitoD  II. 

*  493  *  It  is  proljably  a  satire  on  some  event  notorious 
at  the  time  and  long  since  forgotten  :  Ijut  how- 
ever its  origin  may  be  expLained,  it  is  one  of  the  best 
imitations  extant  of  the  Itahan  mock-heroics.  It  has, 
too,  the  rare  merit  of  being  short.^*^ 

Mnch  better  known  than  tlie  Chrespina  is  the  "  Mos- 
qnoii,"  by  YiUaviciosa  ;  —  a  rich  and  fortunate  eccle- 
siastic, who  was  born  at  Signenza  in  1589,  and  died  at 
Cnenca  in  Tf>-38.  The  Mosquea.  which  is  the  war  of 
the  Hies  and  the  ants,  was  printed  in  101-5  ;  but  though 
the  anthor  lived  so  long  afterwards,  he  left  nothing  else 
to  mark  the  genius  of  which  this  poem  gives  nnqiies- 
tionable  proof  It  is,  as  may  be  imagined,  an  imitation 
of  the  ''  Batrachomyomachia,"  attributed  to  Homer,  and 
the  storm  in  the  third  canto  is  taken,  with  some  mi- 
nuteness in  the  spirit  of  its  parody,  from  the  storm  in 
the  first  book  of  the  ^Eneid.  Still  the  Mosquea  is  as 
original  as  the  nature  of  such  a  poem  requires  it  to  be. 
It  has,  besides,  a  simple  and  well-constructed  ftible  ; 
and  notwithstanding  it  is  protracted  to  twelve  cantos, 
the  curiosity  of  the  reader  is  sustained  to  the  last. 

A  war  breaks  out  in  the  midst  of  the  festivities  of  a 
tournament  in  the  capital  city  of  the  flies,  which  the 
false  ants  had  chosen  as  a  moment  when  they  could  ad- 
vantageously interrupt  the  peace  that  had  long  sub- 
sisted between  them  and  their  ancient  enemies.     The 

En  un  rincoii  pecreto,  oscuro  y  ciego,  de    Chrespina    Maniuzmaiia,    Gata    de 

KscouUiOa-s  debuxo  de  un  ludrillo,  jj,^,j    ChrespO,    I'll    tics    cantos    de    OC- 

Estan  cinco  Fiirdiuiis,  lo  que  OS  ruego  ,  .  ■    ^-j.    i     i„„  i     ri„t;.;i,    ^„«. 

Como  hern.anos  partays,  y  geays  hermanos  tava  nina,  lutltulados  la  GatlOlla,  COn  - 

En  quanto  ni;us  vinit-re  i  vuestras  manas.  puesta    por  Cilltio    ilerctisso,    hspanol, 

IlalLarev-s,  i.<-m  mas  amontonada8,  l'=ins,     por     Nic'olo     Molinero,"     1604, 

De  gloria  y  fania  prosjxTos  dcseos,  I'iino,     pp.     52.        I     knOW    nothing    Ot 

Alas  y  pataji  dc  mil  aves  tragadas,  x\n'.    poeni    OV    its    author,    CXCf'l)t    what 

Z^^fo'iZSi b^ Xlaas  i^  to  be  found  in  this  volume,  of  wliich 

I'or  virtoriosas  Henas  y  tropheos ;  1  have  never  met  even  with  a  biblio- 

Estas  tened  en  mas  que  la  comida,  graphical  notice,  and  of  which  I  have 

Qu'  el  descanso,  qu"  el  sueno,  y  que  la  vida.  j.,.,.^   „„i^.   „,j^    ggpy^  _  ^1,3^.    belonghlg 

''■  ^*  to  my  friend  Don  Pa,scual  de  Gayangos, 

1''  "  La  Mucrti-,   Kiiticrro  y   Honras      of  Madrid. 


Chap.  XXVIII.]  HISTORICAL    POEMS.  581 

heathen  gods  are  introduced,  as  they  4i re  in  tlie  Iliad, 
—  the  other  insects  become  alUes  in  the  great  quarrel, 
after  the  maimer  of  all  heroic  poems,  —  the  neighl)or- 
ing  chiefs  come  in,  —  there  is  an  Achilles  <jn  one  side, 
and  an  iEneas  on  the  other,  —  the  characters  of  the 
principal  personages  are  skilfully  drawn  and  sharply 
distinguished,  —  and  the  catastrophe  is  a  tre- 
mendous battle,  filling  the  last  two  *  cantos,  in  *  494 
which  the  flies  are  defeated  and  their  brilliant 
leader  made  the  victim  of  his  own  rashness.  The  faults 
of  the  poem  are  its  pedantry  and  length.  Its  merits 
are  the  richness  and  variety  of  its  poetical  conceptions, 
the  ingenious  delicacy  with  which  the  minutest  cir- 
cumstances in  the  condition  of  its  insect  heroes  are 
described,  and  the  air  of  reality,  which,  notwithstand- 
ing the  secret  satire  that  is  never  entirely  absent,  is 
given  to  the  whole  by  the  seeming  earnestness  of  its 
tone.  It  ends,  precisely  where  it  should,  with  the  ex- 
piring breath  of  the  principal  hero.^^ 

No  other  mockdieroic  poem  followed  that  of  Villa- 
viciosa  during  this  period,  except  "  The  War  of  the 
Cats,"  by  Lope  de  Vega,  who,  in  his  ambition  for  uni- 
versal conquest,  seized  on  this,  as  he  did  on  every  other 
department  of  the  national  literature.  But  the  "  Gato- 
machia,"  which  is  one  of  the  very  best  of  his  efforts, 
has  already  been  noticed.  We  turn,  therefore,  again 
to  the  true  heroic  poems,  devoted  to  national  subjects, 
whose  current  flows  no  less  amply  and  gravely,  down 
to  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  centurj^,  than  it  did 
wdien  it  first  began,  and  continues  through  its  whole 

-1  The  first  edition  of  the  "Mosquea"  making  a  good  fortune  out  of  it,  Villa- 
was  printed  in  small  12mo  at  Cuenca,  vic,io.sa  exhorted  his  family,  by  his  last 
when  its  author  was  twenty-six  years  will,  to  devote  themselves  in  all  future 
old; — the  third  is  Sancha's,  Madrid,  time  to  its  holy  .service  with  grateful 
1777,  12mo,  with  a  life,  from  whieh  it  zeal.  See,  also,  the  Spanish  translation 
appears,  that,  be.sides  being  a  faithful  of  Sismondi,  Sevilla,  8vo,  Tom.  I.,  1841, 
officer  of  the  In(|uisition  himself,  and  p.  354. 


582 


lUSTOlilCAL    POEMS. 


[Pi:i:iOD  II. 


course  no  less  characteristic  of  tlie  national  genius  and 
temper  than  we  have  seen  it  in  the  poems  on  Charles 
the  Fifth  and  his  achievements. 

The  fiivorite  hero  of  the  next  age,  Don  John  of  Aus- 
tria, son  of  the  Emperor,  was  the  occasion  of  two 
poems,  with  which  we  naturall}'  resume  the  exami- 
nation of  this  curious  series.^^     The  first  of  them  is 


1-  A  vast  liuuilier  of  tributes  were 
paid  by  couteiiiporary  men  of  letters 
to  Don  John  of  Austria ;  but  among 
them  none  is  more  curious  than  a  Latin 
poem  in  two  books,  containing  seven- 
teen or  eighteen  hundred  hexameters, 
the  work  of  a  negro,  who  bad  been 
brought  as  an  infant  from  Africa,  and 
who  by  his  h'arning  rose  to  be  Professor 
of  Latin  and  Greek  in  the  school  at- 
tached to  the  cathedral  of  Granada. 
He  is  the  same  person  noticed  by  Cer- 
vantes as '"el  negi-o  Juan  Latino,"  in 
a  poem  prefixed  to  the  Don  Quixote. 
His  volume  of  Latin  verses  on  the  birth 
of  Ferdinand,  the  son  of  Philip  II.,  on 
Pope  Pius  v.,  on  Don  John  of  Austria, 
and  on  the  city  of  Granada,  making 
above  a  hundred  and  sixty  pages  in 
small  ({uarto,  piinted  at  Granada  in 
1573,  is  not  oul)'  one  of  the  rai'est 
books  in  the  world,  but  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  illustrations  of  the  in- 
tellectual faculties  and  possible  accom- 
plishments of  the  African  race.  The 
author  hhnself  says  he  was  brought  to 
Spain  from  Ethiopia,  and  was,  until 
his  emancipation,  a  slave  to  the  grand- 
son of  the  famous  Gonsalvo  de  Cordova. 
His  Latin  verse  is  respectable,  and,  from 
his  singular  success  as  a  scholar,  he  was 
commonly  calleil  Joannes  Latinus,  a 
sobriquet  under  which  he  is  frecpientlj' 
mentioned.  He  was  respectably  mar- 
ried to  a  lady  of  Granada,  who  fell  in 
love  with  him,  as  Eloisa  did  with  Abe- 
lard,  while  he  was  teacliing  her ;  an<l 
after  his  death,  which  occurred  later 
than  1573,  his  wife  and  children  erect- 
ed a  monument  to  his  memory  in  the 
church  of  Sta.  Ana,  in  that  city,  in- 
scribing it  with  an  ei)ita])h,  in  wliicli 
lie  is  styled  "  Filius  jEthiopuni,  pro- 
lesque  nigerrima  patnim."  (Antonio, 
Bib.  Nov.,  Tom.  I.  p.  71t}.  Don  Quix- 
ote, ('A.  Clemencin,  Tom.  I.  p.  Ix,  note.) 
Andre-as  Scliottus  in  his  "  Hispaniae 
Bibliotheca  sive  de  Academiis  et  Bib- 


liothecis,"  (1G08,)  speaking  of  the  city 
of  Granada,  says  :  "  Hie  Joannes  La- 
tinus jEthiops,  (res  y)rodigiosa)  nostra 
tempestate  rhetoricam  per  ninltos  annos 
publice  docuit,  juventutemque  instituit, 
et  poema  edidit  in  victoriam  Joannis 
Austriaci  navalem."  p.  29. 

There  is  a  play  entitled  "Juan  Lati- 
no" by  Diego  Ximenez  de  Enciso,  in 
the  second  volume  of  the  "Comedias 
Escogidas,"  (Madrid,  1652,)  which  gives 
a  full  sketch  of  him.  In  the  first  act 
he  is  a  slave  of  the  Duke  of  Sesa,  ill 
enough  treated,  kicked  about  and  cuffed. 
In  the  second,  he  is  tutor  to  Dona  Ana 
de  Carlobal,  sister  to  an  ecclesiastic  of 
rank,  and  makes  love  to  lier  through 
his  Sjianish  vei-ses,  and  in  other  ways 
after  the  Spanish  fashion.  In  the  third, 
he  rises  to  distinction  ;  obtains  his  chair 
in  the  University  ;  and,  favored  by  Don 
John  of  Austria,  is  enfrancliised  by  the 
Duke  of  Sesa,  who,  however,  manumits 
him  very  reluctantly,  on  the  ground 
that  it  is  his  great  gloiy  to  hold  so  dis- 
tinguished a  man  as  his  property.  Ad- 
dressing Don  John,  Juan  Latino  is 
made  to  say,  (f.  57,)  in  the  fervor  of 
his  gi-atitude  :  — 

Vo  prometo  a  vuestra  .\lt«za. 
Que  he  de  quiUr  a  la  Faiiia 
Una  pluina  con  tiue  escriva 
Sus  memorables  bazanas. 
Y,  conio  muehos  poemas 
Toman  nonibrc  ilel  qui!  cantan, 
Llauiare  Austriada  uii  libro, 
Pues  canta  Don  Juan  de  .\ustria. 

This  i)romise,  of  course,  was  maile  by 
the  ])oet  half  a  century  or  more  after  it 
had  been  fulfilled. 

It  may  not  be  amiss  here  to  add,  that 
another  negio  is  celebi'ated  in  a  play, 
written  with  skill  in  good  Castiiian, 
and  claiming,  at  the  end,  to  be  founded 
in  fact.  It  is  called  "El  Valiente  Ne- 
gro en  Flandes,"  by  Andres  de  Clara- 
monte,  actor  and  plavwright,  and  is 
found  in  Tom.  XXXL,  1*538,  of  the 
collection  of  Comedias  printed  at  Bar- 


ciiAP.  XXVIII.]  cortp:real.  583 

on  *the  battle  of  Lepanto,  and  was  piiblislied  *4i)5 
in  1578,  the  year  of  Don  John's  untimely  death. 
The  author,  Cortereal,  was  a  Portuguese  gentlenum  of 
rank  and  fortune,  who  distinguished  himself  as  the 
commander  of  an  expedition  against  the  infidels  on 
the  coasts  of  Africa  and  Asia,  in  1571,  and  died  before 
1593  ;  but,  being  tired  of  fame,  passed  the  last  twenty 
years  of  his  life  at  Evora,  and  devoted  himself  to 
poetry  and  to  the  kindred  arts  of  music  and  painting. 
It  was  amidst  the  beautiful  and  romantic  nature  that 
surrounded  him  during  the  quiet  conclusion  of 
his  bustling  *  life,  that  he  wrote  three  long  *  496 
poems  ;  —  two  in  Portuguese,  which  were  soon 
translated  into  Spanish  and  published  ;  and  one,  origi- 
nally composed  in  Spanish,  and  entitled  "  The  Most 
Happy  Victory  granted  by  Heaven  to  the  Lord  Don 
John  of  Austria,  in  the  Gulf  of  Lepanto,  over  the 
Mighty  Ottoman  Armada."  It  is  in  fifteen  cantos  of 
blank  verse,  and  is  dedicated  to  Philip  the  Second,  who, 
contrar}^  to  his  custom,  acknowledged  the  compliment 
by  a  flattering  letter.  The  poem  opens  with  a  dream 
brought  to  the  Sultan  from  the  infernal  regions  by  the 
goddess  of  war,  and  inciting  him  to  make  an  attack  on 
the  Christians ;  but  excepting  this,  and  the  occasional 
use  of  similar  machinery  afterwards,  it  is  merely  a  dull 
historical  account  of  the  war,  ending  with  the  great 
sea-fight  itself,  which  is  the  subject  of  the  last  three 
cantos.^'^ 

celona  and  Saragossa.      The   negro  in  etc.,  compuosta  por  Ilieronimo  de  Cor- 

([ue.stion,  however,  was  not,   like  Juau  tereal,  Cavallero  Portugues,"  s.  1.  1578, 

Latino,    a   native  African,   but  was   a  8vo,  with  curious  woodcuts  ;  probablj' 

slave  born  in  Merida,  and  was  distin-  printed  at  Lisbon.      (Life,  in  Barbosa, 

guished  only  as  a  soldier,  serving  witl)  Toni.  II.  p.  495.)     His  "  Suceso  do  Se- 

great  lionor  under  the  Duke  of  Alva,  gund<i   Cerco    de  Din,"   in   twenty-one 

and   enjoying  the  favor  of  that  .severe  cantos,  on  the  siege,  or  rather  defence, 

general.  of  l)iu,  in  the  Ea.st  Indies,  in  1546,  wius 

^^    "  Felici-ssinia   Vi(?toiia    eoncedida  published  in  1574,  and  translated  into 

del  Cielo  al  Sehor  Don  Juan  d'  Austria,  Sjvanisli  by  tlie  well-known  poet,  Pedro 


584  JUAX    EUFO.  [Pekiod  II. 

Tlie  other  contemporary  poem  on  Don  John  of 
Austria  was  still  more  solemnly  devoted  to  his  mem- 
ory. It  was  written  hy  Juun  Gutierrez  Rufo,  a  person 
much  trusted  in  the  government  of  Cordova,  and  ex- 
jDressly  sent  b\'  that  city  to  Don  John,  whose  service 
he  seems  never  afterwards  to  have  left.  He  was,  as 
he  tells  us,  especially  charged  by  the  prince  to  write 
his  history,  and  received  from  him  the  materials  for 
his  task.  The  result,  after  ten  years  of  labor,  was  a 
long  chronicling  poem  called  the  '"'  Austriada,"  printed 
in  1584.  It  begins,  in  the  first  four  cantos,  with  the 
rebellion  of  the  Moors  in  the  Alpuxarras ;  and  then, 
after  giving  us  the  birth  and  education  of  Don  John,  as 

the  general  sent  to  subdue  them,  goes  on  with 
*  497    his  subsequent  life  and  adventures,  *  and  ends, 

in  the  twenty-fourth  canto,  with  the  battle  of 
Lepanto  and  the  promise  of  a  continuation. 

When  it  was  thus  far  finished,  which  was  not  till 
after  the  death  of  the  prince  to  whose  glory  it  is  dedi- 
cated, it  was  solemnly  presented,  both  by  the  city  of 
Cordova  and  by  the  Cortes  of  the  kingdom,  in  separate 
letters,  to  Philip  the  Second,  asking  for  it  his  especial 
favor,  as  for  a  work  "  that  it  seemed  to  them  must  last 
for  man}'  ages."  The  king  received  it  graciously,  and 
gave  the  author  five  hundred  ducats,  regarding  it,  per- 
haps, with  secret  satisfaction,  as  a  funeral  monument  to 
one  whose  life  had  been  so  brilliant  that  his  death  was 
not  unwelcome.  With  such  patronage,  it  soon  passed 
through  three  editions ;  but  it  had  no  real  merit,  ex- 

de  Pailillii,  wlin  ]iulilislii'il  lii.s  version  Manuel  ile  Souza,  who  had  held  a  dis- 

in  l.'i97.      His  "  Naufraj^iii  e  Lastinioso  tinj^iiisheil   office  in  Portuguese  India, 

Suceso  da  Perdic^o  de  Manuel  de  Souza  and    who    had    ]>erished    miserably    by 

de  Sepulveda,"  etc.,  (Lisboa,  l.'>94,  4to,  shipwreck  near  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope, 

ff.  206,)  in  seventeen  cantos,  was  trans-  in    1553,   as   he  was  returning   home, 

lated  into  Spanish  hy  Fnmcisco  de  Con-  was  a  connection  of  Cortereal  by  mar- 

trei-as,  with  the  title  of  "  Nave  Trigica  liage.      Denis,  Chroniciues,  etc.,  Tom. 

de  la  India  de  i'„!tiigal,"  ltJ24.     This  II.  p.  79. 


Chap.  XXVIII. |  VK/ILLA    CASTELLAXOS.  585 

cept  in  the  skilful  construction  of  its  octave  stanzas, 
and  in  some  of  its  historical  details,  and  was,  therefore, 
soon  forgotten.*^ 

In  the  neighborhood  of  the  city  of  Leon  there  are  — 
or  in  the  sixteenth  century  there  were  —  three  imper- 
fect Roman  inscriptions  cut  into  the  living  rock  ;  two 
(»f  them  referring  to  Curienus,  a  Spaniard,  who  had  suc- 
cessfully resisted  the  Imperial  armies  in  the  reign  of 
Domitian,  and  the  third  to  Polma,  a  lady,  whose  mar- 
riage to  her  lover,  Canioseco,  is  thus  singularly  re- 
corded. On  these  inscriptions,  Vezilla  Castellanos,  a 
native  of  the  territory  where  the  persons  they  com- 
memorate are  supposed  to  have  lived,  has  constructed 
a  romantic  poem,  in  twenty-nine  cantos,  called  "  Leon 
in  Spain,"  which  he  published  in  1586. 

Its  main  subject,  however,  in  the  last  fifteen  cantos, 
is  the  tribute  of  a  hundred  damsels,  which  the  usurper 
Mauregato  covenanted  by  treaty  to  pay  an- 
nually to  the  *  Moors,  and  which,  by  the  as-  *  498 
sistance  of  the  apostle  Saint  James,  King 
Ramiro  successfvdly  refused  to  pay  any  longer.  Cas- 
tellanos, therefore,  passes  lightly  over  the  long  period 
intervenins:  between  the  time  of  Domitian  and  that  of 
the  war  of  Pelayo,  giving  ordy  a  few  sketches  fi"om  its 
Christian  history,  and  then,  in  the  twenty-ninth  canto, 
brings  to  a  conclusion  so  much  of  his  poem  as  relates 
to  the  Moorish  tribute,  without,  however,'reaching  the 

1*  "La  Aus.tiiada  <le  Juan  Rufo,  Ju-  ancc.  (Baltasar  PoiT(^iio,  Dichos  y  He- 
lado  de  la  Ciiidad  de  Ccirdova,"  Ma-  ciio.s  de  Pliilipe  II.,  Brusidas,  1666, 
drid,  1584,  12ino,  if.  447.  There  are  12nio,  p.  39.)  The  be.stot  Riifo's  works 
editions  of  1585,  1586,  and  1587,  and  is  his  Letter  to  his  young  Son,  at  the 
it  is  extravagantly  praised  by  Cervan-  end  of  his  "  Apotegnias,"  already  no- 
te.s,  in  a  prefatory  sonnet,  and  in  the  ticed  ;  —  the  same  son,  Luis,  who  after- 
scrutiny  of  Don  Quixote's  library.  Ru-  wards  became  a  distinguisheil  painter  at 
fo,  when,  on  some  oeeasion,  he  was  to  Rome.  The  "Austriada"  is  reprinted, 
be  presented  to  Phili|)  II.,  said  he  had  with  a  good  prefatory  notice  of  th(^  au- 
prepared  himself  fully  for  the  reeep-  thor,  by  Don  Cayetano  Rosell,  in  VoL 
tion,  but  lost  all  presence  of  mind,  from  XXIX.  of  the  Bibliotcca  of  Rivadeney- 
the  severity  of  that  nfonarch's  appear-  ra,  1854. 


5S6  VEZILLA    CASTELLAXOS.  [Period  1 1. 

ultimate  limit  he  had  originally  proposed  to  himself. 
But  it  is  long  enough.  Some  parts  of  the  Roman  fic- 
tion are  pleasing,  but  the  rest  of  the  poem  shows  that 
Castellanos  is  only  what  he  calls  himself  in  the  Prefiice, 
—  ^  a  modest  poetical  historian,  or  historical  poet ;  an 
imitator  and  apprentice  of  those  who  lune  employed 
poetry  to  record  such  memorable  things  as  kindle  the 
minds  of  men  and  raise  them  to  a  Christian  and  devout 
reverence  for  the  saints,  to  an  honorable  exercise  of 
arms,  to  the  defence  of  God's  holy  law,  and  to  the  loyal 
service  of  the  king."  ^^  If  his  jDoem  have  any  subject, 
it  is  the  history  of  the  city  of  Leon. 

In  the  course  of  the  next  four  years  after  the  ap- 
pearance of  this  rhymed  chronicle  of  Leon,  we  find  no 
less  than  three  other  long  poems  connected  with  the 
national  history  :  one  by  Miguel  Giner.  on  the  siege  of 
Antwerp  by  Alexander  Farnese,  who  succeeded  the  un- 
fortunate Don  John  of  Austria  as  generaUssimo  of 
Philip  the  Second  in  the  war  of  the  Netherlands  :  — 
another,  in  twent3-one  cantos,  by  Edward  or  Duarte 
Diaz,  a  Portuguese,  on  the  taking  of  Granada  by  the 
Catholic  sovereigns ;  —  and  the  third  by  Lorenzo  de 
Zamora,  on  the  history  of  Saguntum  and  of  its  siege  hy 
Hannibal,  in  which,  preserving  the  outline  of  that  early 
story  so  far  as  it  was  well  settled,  he  has  wildly  mixed 

up    love-scenes,  tournaments,   and    adventures, 
*  499    suited*  only  to  the   age   of  *  chivalry.     Taken 

together,  they  show  how  strong  was  the  passion 

15  "  Primera   y   Segiinda    Parte    del  J[ariana  admits  it,  and  Lobera,  in  his 

Leon   de  Espaua,   por  Pedro  de  la  Ve-  "  Historia    de    las  .  Grandezas,    ec,    de 

zilla    Castellanos,"    Salamanca,    1.586,  Leon,"    (Valladolid,    1596,    4to,    Parte 

12mo,  tr.  369.     The  stoiy  of  the  gross  II.  c.   24,)  gi%'es  it  in  full,  as  unques- 

tribute   of   tlif   damsels   has   probably  tionable.      Leon    is   still    often    called 

some  foundation  in  fact  ;  one  proof  of  Leon  de  Esjyaiw,  as  it  is  in  the  poem 

which  i.s,  that  the  old  General  Chronicle  of  Castellanos,  to  distinguish  it   from 

(Parte  III.  c.  8)  seems  a  little  unwilling  Lyons  in  France,  Leon  de  Francia. 
to  tell  a  tale  so  discreditable  to  Spain. 


-Chap.  XXVIII.]  CIIKISTOVAL    DE    MESA.  587 

for  iiarnitive  verse  in  Spain,  where,  in  .so  short  a  tinie^, 
it  produced  three  such  poenis.^'' 

To  a  siniihir  result  we  should  arrive  from  the  single 
example  of  Christoval  de  Mesa,  who,  between  1504:  and 
1612,  published  three  more  national  heroic  poems;  — 
the  first  on  the  tradition,  that  the  body  of  Saint  James, 
after  his  martyrdom  at  Jerusalem,  was  miraculously 
carried  to  Spain  and  deposited  at  Compostella,  where 
that  saint  has  ever  since  been  worshipped  as  the 
especial  patron  of  the  whole  kingdom  ;  —  the  second 
on  Pelayo  and  the  recovery  of  Spain  from  the  Moors 
down  to  the  battle  of  Covadonga ;  —  and  the  third  on 
the  battle  of  Tolosa,  which  broke  the  power  of  Moham- 
medanism and  made  sure  the  emancipation  of  the  whole 
Peninsula.  All  three,  as  well  as  Mesa's  elaborate  trans- 
lations of  the  JEneid  and  Georgics,  which  followed 
them,  are  written  in  otfava  riina,  and  all  three  are  dedi- 
cated to  PhilijD  the  Third. 

Of  their  author  we  know  little,  and  that  little  is  told 
chiefly  by  himself  in  his  pleasant  poetical  epistles,  and 
especially  in  two  addressed  to  the  Count  of  Lemos  and 
one  to  the  Count  de  Castro.  From  these  we  learn, 
that,  in  his  youth,  he  was  addicted  to  the  stud}^  of 
Fernando  de  Herrera  and  Luis  de  Soto,  as  well  as  to 
the  teachings  of  Sanchez,  the  first  Spanish  scholar  of 

1^  "Sitio  y  Toma  de  Ambere.s,   por  toria  de  Sagunto,  Niimancia,  y  Cartago, 

Miguel  Giuer,"  Zaragoza,  1587,  8vo.  —  compuesta    por    Lorencio    de    Zamora, 

"  La  Conqui-sta  que  hicieron  lo.s  Reyes  Natural  de  Ocana,"  Alcala,   1589,   4to, 

Catolicos  en  Granada,  por  Edoardo  Di-  —  nineteen  cantos  of  ottava  rima,  and 

az,"  1590,   8vo,  ff.  286,  —  a  chronicle  about  five  hundred  pages,   ending  ab- 

rather    than    a    poem,    in    twenty-one  ruptly  and  promising  more.       It  was 

books,    beginning    with    the    king    of  written,  the  author  says,  when  he  was 

Granada's   breach   of  faith   by   taking  eighteen  years  old  ;  but  though  he  lived 

Zahara,  and  ending  with  the  adventure  to  lie  an  old  man,  and  died  in  1614, 

and  challenge  of  Garcilasso  de  la  Vega  having  printed  several  religious  books, 

and  the  fall  of  Granada  (Barliosa,  Tom.  lie  never  went  further  with  this  poem. 

I.  p.  730);  —  besides  wliicli,  Diaz,  who  (Antonio,  Bil).  Nov.,  Tom.   II.  ]).   11.) 

was  long  a  soldier  in  the  Spanish  ser-  But  he  published  a  volume  of  mi.scpl- 

vice,    and   wrote   good   Gastilian,   pub-  laneous  poetry  at  Madii<l,  in  1592,  4to, 

lished,    in    1592,   a  volume  of  verse  in  entitled  "  Varias  Obras,"  some  of  which 

Spanish  and  Portuguese.  —  "De  la  His-  are  in  Portuguese  and  some  in  Italian. 


•588  JUAX    DE    T.A    CUEVA.  [Period  II. 

his  time ;  but  that^  later,  he  Hved  five  years  in  Italy, 
much  connected  with  Tasso,  and  from  this  time  be- 
longed entireh'  to  the  Italian  school  of  Spanish 
*  500  poetry,  to  which,  as  his  works  show,  *  he  had 
always  been  inclined.  But,  with  ah  his  efforts, 
—  and  they  were  not  few,  —  he  found  little  favor  or 
patronage.  The  Count  de  Lemos  refused  to  carry  him 
to  Naples  as  a  part  of  his  poetical  court,  and  the  king 
took  no  notice  of  his  long  poems,  which,  indeed,  were 
no  more  worthy  of  favor  than  the  rest  of  their  class 
that  were  then  jostling  and  crowding  one  another  in 
their  efforts  to  obtain  the  royal  protection.^' 

Juan  de  la  Cueva  followed  in  the  footsteps  of  Mesa. 
His"Betica,"  printed  in  1603,  is  an  heroic  poem,  in 
twenty-four  cantos,  on  the  conquest  of  Seville  by  Saint 
Ferdinand.  Its  subject  is  good,  and  its  hero,  who  is 
the  king  himself,  is  no  less  so.  But  the  poem  is  a  fail- 
ure ;  heavy  and  uninteresting  in  its  plan,  and  cold  in 
its  execution  ;  —  for  Cueva,  who  took  his  materials 
chiefly  from  the  General  Chronicle  of  Saint  Ferdinand's 

1'  "Las  Xavas  de  Tolosa,"  twenty  the  poor  tragedy  of  "Pompeio,"  Ma- 
cantos,  Madrid,  1594,  12mo  ;  —  "La  drid,  1618,  12ino.  The  otttiva  rima 
Restauracion  de  Espana,"  ten  cantos,  seems  to  me  very  cumbrous  in  both 
Madrid,  1607,  12mo  ; — "  El  Patron  de  these  translations,  and  unsuited  to 
Espana,"  six  books,  Madrid,  1611,  their  nature,  though  we  are  reconciled 
12mo,  with  Rimas  added.  My  copy  to  it,  and  to  the  tei-za  rima,  in  the 
of  the  last  volume  is  one  of  the  many  Metamorphoses  of  Ovid,  by  Viaiia,  a 
proofs  that  new  title-pages  with  later  Portuguese,  printed  at  VaUadolid,  iu 
dates  were  attached  to  Spanish  books  1.589,  4to  ;  one  of  the  hajty.iest  transla- 
that  had  been  some  time  before  the  tions  made  in  the  jmre  age  of  Castiliau 
public.  Mr.  Southey,  to  whom  this  literature.  The  Iliad,  which  Mesa  is 
copy  once  belonged,  expresses  his  sur-  also  supposed  to  have  translated,  wa.s 
prise,  in  a  MS.  note  on  the  fly-leaf,  never  printed.  In  one  of  his  epistles, 
that  the  last  half  of  the  volume  .should  (Rimas,  1611,  f.  201,)  he  says  he  was 
be  dated  in  1611,  while  the /«■<  half  is  bred  to  the  law;  and  in' another, 
dated  in  1612.  But  the  rea.son  is,  that  (f.  20.5,)  that  he  loved  to  live  in  Castile, 
the  title-page  to  the  "Rimas"  comes  though  he  was  of  Estremadura.  In 
at  p.  94,  in  the  middle  of  a  .sheet,  and  many  i)laces  he  alludes  to  his  poverty 
could  not  conveniently  be  cancelled  and  and  to  the  neglect  he  sufl'ered  ;  and  in 
changed,  as  was  the  title-page  to  the  a  sonnet  in  his  la.st  publication,  (1618, 
"Patron  de  Espafia,"  with  which  the  f.  113,)  he  .shows  a  poor,  craven  .spirit 
volume  opens.  Mesa's  translations  are  iu  flattering  the  ("ount  de  Lemos,  with 
later  ;  —  the  ^Eneid,  Madrid,  1615,  whom  he  was  oflended  for  not  taking 
12rno  ;  and  the  Eclogues  of  Virgil,  to  him  to  Naples.  After  this  we  hear 
which  he  added  a  few  more  Kinias  and  nothing  of  him. 


CiiAP.  XXVIII.]  EL    PINCIANO.  589 

,'^on,  was  not  able  to  luoulcl  them,  as  lie  strove  to  do, 
into  the  form  of  the  "  Jerusalem  Delivered."  The  task 
was,  in  fact,  quite  beyond  his  power.  The  most  agree- 
able portion  of  his  work  is  that  which  involves  the 
character  of  Tarlira,  a  personage  imitated  from  Tasso's 
Clorinda ;  but,  after  all,  the  romantic  episode  of  which 
she  is  the  heroine  has  great  defects,  and  is  too  much 
interwoven  with  the  principal  thread  of  the 
story.  The  general  plan  *  of  the  poem,  how-  *  501 
ever,  is  less  encumbered  in  its  movement 
and  more  epic  in  its  structure  than  is  common  in  those 
of  its  class  in  Spanish  literature ;  and  the  versification, 
though  careless,  is  fluent,  and  generally  harmonious.^^ 

A  physician  and  scholar  of  Valladolid,  Alfonso  Lopez, 
—  commonly  called  El  Pinciano,  from  the  Roman  name 
of  his  native  city,  —  wrote  in  his  youth  a  poem  on 
the  subject  of  Pelayo,  but  did  not  publish  it  till  1605, 
when  he  w^as  already  an  old  man.  It  supposes  Pelayo 
to  have  been  misled  by  a  dream  from  Lucifer  to  under- 
take a  journey  to  Jerusalem,  and,  when  at  the  Holy 
Sepulchre,  to  have  been  undeceived  by  another  dream, 
and  sent  back  for  the  emancipation  of  his  country. 
This  last  is  the  obvious  and  real  subject  of  the  poem, 
which  has  episodes  and  machinery  enough  to  explain 
all  the  history  of  Spain  down  to  the  time  of  Philip  the 
Third,  to  whom  the  "  Pelayo  "  is  dedicated.  It  is  long, 
like  the  rest  of  its  class,  and,  though  ushered  into 
notice  with  an  air  of  much  scholarship  and  preten- 
sion, it  is  written  with  little  skill  in  the  versification, 

1^  "Couquista  ile  la  Betica,  Poema  I.  p.  285;  and  a  number  of  liis  iinpub- 
Heroico  de  Juan  de  la  Cueva,"  1603,  lished  works  are  said  to  be  in  the  pos- 
reprinted  in  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  session  of  the  Counts  of  Aguila  in  Se- 
volumes  of  the  collection  of  Fernandez,  ville.  Semanario  Pintoresco,  1846,  p. 
(Madrid,  1795,  with  a  Preface,  which  250.  Gayangos  cites  a  volume  of  Cu- 
is,  I  think,  by  Quintana,  and  is  very  eva's  poetry,  entitled  "Obras,"  pub- 
good.  A  notice  of  Cueva  occurs  in  the  lished  at  Seville  in  1582. 
Spanish  translation  of  Sismondi,  Tom. 


590  MOSQUERA    AXD    YASCOXCELLOS.         [Peuiod  II. 

and  is  one  of  the  nio.st  wearisome  poems  in  the  hm- 

11 
gnage. 

In    1G12    two   more    similar    epies   were    pnblished. 

The  first  is  "■  La  Numantina,"  which  is  on  the  sieo-e  of 

o 

Numantia  and  the  history  of  Soria,  a  town  standino-  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Nnmantia,  and  claiming  to  be  its 
successor.  The  author,  Francisco  Mosquera  de  Bar- 
nuevo,  who  belonged  to  an  ancient  and  distinguished 

family  there,  not  only  wrote  this  poem  of 
*  502    *  fifteen    cantos    in    honor    of    the     territory 

Avhere  he  was  born,  but  accompanied  it  with 
a  prose  history,  as  a  sort  of  running  commentar3^  in 
which  whatever  relates  to  Soria,  and  especially  the 
Barnuevos,  is  not  forgotten.  It  is  throughout  a  ver}- 
solemn-  piece  of  pedantry,  and  its  metapli3\xical  agen- 
cies, such  as  Europe  talking  to  Nemesis,  and  Antiquity 
teaching  the  author,  seem  to  be  a  good  deal  in  the  tone 
of  the  old  Mj^steries,  and  are  certainly  anything  but 
poetical.  The  other  epic  referred  to  is  by  Vascon- 
cellos,  a  Portuguese,  who  had  an  imjDortant  command 
and  fought  bravely  against  Spain  when  his  country  was 
emancipating  itself  from  the  Spanish  yoke,  but  still 
wrote  with  purity,  in  the  Castilian,  seventeen  cantos, 
nominally  on  the  expulsion  of  the  Moriscos,  but  really 
on  the  history  of  the  whole  Peninsula,  from  the  time 
of  the  first  entrance  of  the  Moors  down  to  the  final 
exile  of  the  last  of  their  hated  descendants  by  Philip 
the  Third.  But  neither  of  these  poems  is  now  remem- 
bered, and  neither  deserves  to  be.-'^ 

19  "  El  Pelayodel  Pinciaiio,"  Madriil,  have  never  seen  it.      "La  Patrona  de 

1605,  12nio,  twenty  cantos,  filling  above  Madrid    Restituida,"    by  Salas  Barba- 

six  hundred  pages,  with  a  poor  attempt  dillo,  an  heroic  poem  in  honor  of  Our 

at  the  end,  after  tln'  manner  of  Tasso,  Lady  of  Atocha,  j)rinted  in  1608,  and 

to  give  an  allt-i^oriial  inti-rpretation  to  rejirinted,   Madrid,  1750,   12nio,  which 

the  whole.      I   notice   in  X.   Antonio,  I    posses.s,    is  worthless,  and  does  not 

"  La  Iberiada,  de  los  Hechos  de  Scipion  need  to  be  noticed. 
Afncano,  por  Oasjiar  .Savariego  de  San-  ^  "  La   Xumantina   del    Licenciado 

ta.  Anna,"    Valladolid,    lOO.j,    8vo.     I  Don  Francisco  Mosquera  de  Uaruuevo, 


Chap.  XXVIII.] 


BEr.XAi;i)A    FERIIEIKA. 


591 


*  From  tliis  point  oi'  time,  sucli  narrative  *  503 
poems,  more  or  less  approaching  an  epic  form, 
and  devoted  to  the  glory  of  Spain,  hecome  rare ;  —  a 
circumstance  to  be,  in  part,  attributed  to  the  success 
of  Lope  de  Vega,  which  gave  to  the  national  drama  a 
prominence  so  brilliant.  Still,  in  the  course  of  the  next 
thirty  years,  two  or  three  attempts  w^ere  made  that 
should  be  noticed. 

The  first  of  them  is  by  a  Portuguese  lady,  Bernarda 
Ferreira,  and  is  called  "  Spain  Emancipated  "  ;  a  tedious 
poem,  in  two  parts,  the  earlier  of  which  appeared  in 
1618,  and  the  latter  in  1673,  long  after  its  author's 
death.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  rhymed  chronicle,  —  to  the  first 
part  of  which  the  dates  are  regularly  attached,  —  and 
was  intended,  no  doubt,  to  cover  the  wdiole  seven  cen- 
turies of  Spanish  historj^  from  the  outbreak  of  Pelayo 


etc.,  dirigida  a  la  nobilissima  Ciudad 
de  Soria  y  a  sus  doce  Linages  y  Casas  a 
ellas  agi-egadas,"  Sevilla,  1612,  4to. 
He  says  "it  was  a  book  of  his  youth, 
printed  when  his  hairs  were  gray  "  ;  but 
it  shows  none  of  the  judgment  of  ma- 
ture years. 

"  La  Liga  deshecha  por  la  Expulsion 
de  los  Moriscos  de  los  Reynos  de  Es- 
pana,"  Madrid,  1612,  12mo.  It  was 
printed,  therefore,  long  before  Vascon- 
cellos  fought  against  Spain,  and  con- 
tains fulsome  compliments  to  Philip 
III.,  which  must  afterwards  have  given 
their  author  no  pleasure.  (Barbo.sa, 
Tom.  II.  p.  701.)  The  poem  coirsists 
of  about  twelve  hundred  octave  stanzas. 

"La  Espana  Defendida,"  by  Christ. 
Suarez  de  Figueroa,  Madrid,  1612, 12mo, 
and  Naples,  1644,  belongs  to  the  same 
date,  making,  in  fact,  three  heroic  po- 
ems in  one  year.  This  last  is  on  the 
story  of  Bernardo  del  Carpio,  and  ends 
with  the  death  of  Qi-lando,  —  the  whole 
di%'ided  into  fourteen  books,  and  making 
about  fourteen  hundred  octave  stanzas. 

Gayangos  votes  here  five  or  six  he- 
roic or  narrative  poems,  that  belong  to 
the  same  period,  and,  though  of  litth^ 
value,  and  only  a  part  of  the  crowd  that 
might  be  enumerated  and  that  are  found 


in  Rosell's  list,  should  yet,  perhap.s, 
have  some  notice. 

The  oldest  is  of  1568,  by  Baltha.sar 
de  Vargas,  and  is  entitled  ' '  Breve  Re- 
lacion,  ec,  de  la  Jornada  del  Duque  de 
Alva  desde  Espafia  hasta  Flandes,"  — 
a  mere  compliment,  and  a  very  poor 
one,  to  the  l)uke  on  his  expedition  to 
Flauder.s,  which  did  so  mucli  to  ruin 
Spain. 

The  next,  "La  Itianta  [sic]  Corona- 
da,"  by  Joao  Soarez  de  Alarcam,  (Alar- 
con,)  1606,  is  on  the  story  of  the  un- 
happy Inez  de  Castro. 

The  third  is  "La  Murgetana,"  by 
Caspar  Garcia  Oriolano,  1608,  on  the 
con(pxest  of  Murcia  by  Jaime  I.  of  Ara- 
gon. 

The  fourth  is  on  a  sea-fight  of  the 
Marquis  de  Sta.  Cruz,  published  in 
1624,   by  Diego  Duque  de   Estiada. 

The  fifth  is  on  another  sea-fight,  but 
won  by  Don  Fadrique  de  Toledo,  and 
was  ])ublished  in  1624  by  Gabriel  de 
Ayrolo  Calan. 

And  the  la.st  is  by  Simeon  Zapata, 
on  the  expulsion  of  the  Moriscos,  which 
it  defends  in  the  spirit  of  that  ruthles,s 
act  of  tyranny.  It  was  printed  in  1635, 
and  translated  at  once  into  Italian. 

Ail  are  worthless,  or  nearly  so. 


592  FIGUEIiOA. ElSQUILACHE.  [rKKK.n  IL 

to  the  fall  of  Granada,  but  it  is  finished  no  further  than 
the  reign  of  Alfonso  the  Wise,  where  it  stops  abruptly. 

The  second  attempt  is  one  of  the  most  absurd  known 
in  literary  history.  It  was  made  by  Vera  y  Figueroa, 
Count  de  la  Roca,  long  the  Minister  of  Spain  at  A'enice, 
and  the  author  of  a  pleasant  prose  treatise  on  the 
Rig-hts  and  Duties  of  an  Ambassador.  He  beg-an  bv 
translating  Tasso's  "Jerusalem  Delivered,"  but.  just  as 
his  version  was  ready  to  be  published,  he  changed  his 
purpose,  and  accommodated  the  whole  work  —  history, 
poetical  ornaments,  and  all  —  to  the  delivery  of  Seville 
from  the  Moors  by  Saint  Ferdinand.  The  transforma- 
tion is  as  complete  as  any  in  Ovid,  but  certainly  not  as 
graceful ;  —  a  fjict  singularly  apparent  in  the  second 
book,  where  Tasso's  beautiful  and  touching  story  of 
Sophronia  and  Olindo  is  travestied  by  the  correspond- 
ing one  of  Leocadia  and  Ga.lindo.  As  if  to  make  the 
R-liole  more  grotesque  and  give  it  the  air  of  a  grave 
caricature,  the  Spanish  poem  is  composed  throughout 
in  the  old  Castilian  redondillas^  and  carried  through  ex- 
actly twenty  books,  all  rimning  parallel  to  the  twent}- 
of  the  "Jerusalem  Delivered." 

The  last  of  the  three  attempts  just  referred  to,  and 
tlie  last  one  of  the  period  that  needs  to  be  noticed,  is 
the  "  Naples  Recovered  "  of  Prince  Esquilache, 
*  504  which,  *  though  written  earlier,  dates,  by  its 
publication,  from  1G51.  It  is  on  the  conquest 
of  Naples  in  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century  by 
Alfonso  the  Fifth  of  Aragon,  who  seems  to  have  been 
selected  as  its  hero,  in  part  at  least,  because  the  Prince 
of  Esquilache  could  boast  his  descent  from  that  truly 
great  monarch. 

The  poem,  however,  is  little  worthy  of  its  subject. 
The  author  avowedly  took  great  pains  that  it  should 


I'liAP.  XXVI II.] 


KSgriLACIIK. 


59: 


have  no  more  books  than  llie  yEneid  ;  that  it  should 
vioUxte  no  historical  ])roprieties ;  and  that,  in  its  epi- 
sodes, machineiv,  and  style,  as  well  as  in  its  general 
fable  and  structui'e,  it  should  be  rigorously  conlbrnied 
to  the  safest  epic  models.  He  even,  as  he  declares, 
had  procured  for  it  the  crowning  grace  of  a  royal 
approbation  before  he  ventured  to  give  it  to  the  Avorld. 
Still  it  is  a  liiilure.  It  seems  to  foreshadow  some  of 
the  severe  and  impoverishing  doctrines  of  the  next 
century  of  Spanish  literature,  and  is  written  Avith  a 
•squeamish  nicety  in  the  vei'sification  that  still  fui'ther 
impairs  its  spirit ;  so  that  the  last  of  the  class  to  which 
it  belongs,  if  it  be  not  one  of  the  most  extravagant,  is 
one  of  the  most  dull  and  uninteresting.^^ 


21  "  Ht'spana  Libertada,  Parte  Pri- 
inera,  por  Dona  Benmnla  Feireira  de 
Jjacerda,  dirigida  al  ReyCatolicode  las 
Hespanas,  Don  Felipe  Tercero  deste 
Nombre,  nuestro  Senor,"  (Lisboa,  1618, 
4to,)  was  evidently  intended  as  a  com- 
pliinent  to  the  Spanish  usurpers,  and 
in  this  point  of  view  is  as  little  credit- 
able to  its  author  as  it  is  in  its  poet- 
ical aspect.  Parte  Segunda  was  pub- 
lished by  her  daughter,  Li-sboa,  1673, 
4to.  Bernarda  de  Lacerda  was  a  lady 
variously  accomplished.  Lope  de  Vega, 
who  dedicated  to  her  his  eclogue  en- 
titled "Filis,"  the  last  work  he  ever 
published,  (Ol)ras  Sueltas,  Tom.  X.  p. 
193,)  compliments  her  on  her  writing 
Latin  with  purity.  She  published  a 
volume  of  poetry,  entitled  "  Soledades 
de  Husaco,"  in  Portuguese,  Spanish,  and 
Italian,  in  1634,  a  good  German  trans- 
lation of  a  jjart  of  which  may  be  found 
in  Blumenkranz  religioser  Poesien  aus 
Sprachen  des  Siidens  von  C.  B.  Schlii- 
ter,  Pad(n'])orn,  1855.  She  died  in 
1644. 

' '  El  Fernando,  6  Sevilla  Restaurada, 
Poeina  Heroico,  escrito  con  los  Versos 
de  la  Gerusalemme  Liberata,  ec,  por 
Don  Juan  Ant.  de  Vera  y  Figueroa, 
Conde  de  la  Eoca,"  ec,  Milan,  1632, 
4to,  pp.  654.  He  died  in  1658.  An- 
tonio, ad  verb.  See  further  about  him 
in  Vol.  III.,  Appendix  ('. 

"Napoles  Reeuperada  por  el  Key 
VOL.    11.  38 


Don  Alonso,  Poema  Heroico  de  D.  J'ran- 
cisco  de  Borja,  Princijie  de  Esfpiilache," 
ec.  Zaragoza,  1651,  Ambere.s,  1658, 
4to.  A  notice  of  his  honorable  and 
adv'enturous  life  will  be  given,  when 
we  speak  of  Spanish  lyrical  poetry, 
where  he  was  more  successful  than  he 
was  in  epic. 

In  the  same  year,  1651,  another  poem, 
on  the  subsecpient  concjuest  of  Naples 
by  Gonsalvo  de  Cordova,  appeared  at 
Granada  (4to,  ff.  138,  making  about 
six  hundred  octave  stanzas).  It  is  a 
sort  of  life  of  the  Great  Captain  ;  but 
though  it  contains  an  intimation  of  his 
death,  it  really  ends  with  his  de[)arture 
from  Naples  for  the  last  time.  It  is 
quite  dull,  and  is  entitled  "  Napoli.sea, 
Poema  Heroico,  ec,  por  Don  Francisco 
de  Trillo  y  Figueroa."  He  wi-ote  lyri- 
cal poetry,  a  volume  of  which,  under 
the  title  of  "  Poesias  Varias,"  was  j)rint- 
ed  at  Granada  in  1652; — some  parts 
of  it  national  and  simple  in  its  style, 
some  affected  and  cidto,  like  Gongora, 
whoTu  he  imitated. 

There  were  two  or  three  other  poems 
called  hei'oic  that  appeared  after  these  ; 
but  they  Ho  not  need  to  be  recalled. 
One  of  the  most  absurd  of  them  is  the 
"Orf('o  Militar,"  in  two  parts,  by  Joan 
de  la  Victoria  Ovando  ;  the  fir.st  being 
on  the  siege  of  Vienna  by  the  Turks, 
and  tlie  second  on  that  of  Buda,  both 
l)rinted  in  1688,  4to,  at  Malaga,  where 


594  PASSION    FOK    IIEKOIC    rOE:MS.  [Feuiud  II. 

*  50-5  *  It  is  worth  while,  as  we  finish  our  notice  of 
this  remarkable  series  of  Spanish  narrative  and 
•heroic  poems,  to  recollect  how  long  the  passion  for 
them  continued  in  Spain,  and  how  distinctly  they  re- 
tained to  the  last  those  ambitious  feelings  of  national 
greatness  which  originally  gave  them  birth.  For  a 
century,  during  the  reigns  of  Philip  the  Second,  Philip 
the  Third,  and  Philip  the  Fourth,  they  were  continually 
issuing  from  the  press,  and  were  continual!}'  received 
with  the  same  kind,  if  not  the  same  deo-ree,  of  fovor 
that  had  accompanied  the  old  romances  of  chivalry, 
which  they  had  helped  to  supersede.  Nor  was  this 
unnatural,  though  it  was  extravagant.  These  old  epic 
attempts  were,  in  general,  founded  on  some  of  the 
deepest  and  noblest  traits  in  the  Castilian  character; 
and  if  that  character  had  gone  on  rising  in  dignity 
and  developing  itself  under  the  three  Philips,  as  it  had 
under  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  there  can  be  little  doubt 
that  the  poetry  Ijuilt  upon  it  would  have  taken  rank 
by  the  side  of  that  produced  under  similar  impulses  in 
Italy  and  England.  But,  unhappily,  this  was  not  the 
case.  These  Spanish  narrative  poems,  devoted  to  the 
glory  of  their  country,  were  produced  when  the  na- 
tional character  was  on  the  decline  ;  and  as  they  sprang 
more  directly  from  the  essential  elements  of  that  char- 
acter, and  depended  more  on  its  spirit,  than  did  the 
similar  poetry  of  any  other  people  in  modern  times, 
so  they  now  more  visibl}^  declined  with  it. 

It    is    in    vain,   therefore,    that    the    semblance    of 

the    feelings    which    originall}^    gave    them    birth    is 

■ 

their  author  enjoyed  a  military  office  ;  was  printed  at  Mahiga  in  1663,  is  not 

but  neitlier,    I  tliinlc,   was  much  read  better.     He  says  in  it,  that  he  wrote 

beyond  th<^  limits  of  the  city  that  pro-  his  first  jwems  in   16-12,   and  that  he 

duce<l  them.      His  "Ociosde  Ca.stalia."  served  at  Xa))les  and  at  Vienna  ;  and  I 

a  volume   chielly  of  lyrical   ver.se   and  iind  tliat  lie  was  alive  in  1688,  beyond 

chieHy  in  the   Italian    nianner,   which  which  1  have  no  notice  of  him. 


Chap.  XXVI II.]       FAILUKE    OF    IIEIIOIC    POETRY.  595 

continued  to  the  *la8t;  for  the  substance  is  *  506 
wanting.  We  mark,  it  is  true,  in  nearly  every 
one  of  them,  a  proud  patriotism,  which  is  just  as  pre- 
sumptuous and  exclusive  under  the  weakest  of  tlie 
Philips  as  it  was  when  Charles  the  Fifth  wore  half  the 
crowns  of  Europe ;  but  we  feel  that  it  is  degenerating 
into  a  dreary,  ungracious  prejudice  in  favor  of  their 
own  country,  whicli  pi-evented  its  poets  from  looking 
abroad  into  the  world  beyond  the  Pyrenees,  where  they 
could  only  see  their  cherished  hopes  of  universal  em- 
pire disajDpointed,  and  other  nations  rising  to  the  state 
and  power  their  own  was  so  fast  losing.  We  mark, 
too,  throughout  these  epic  attempts,  the  indications 
to  which  we  have  been  accustomed  of  what  was  most 
peculiar  in  Spanish  loyalty,  —  })old,  turbulent,  and  en- 
croaching against  all  other  authority  exactly  in  propor- 
tion as  it  was  faithful  and  submissive  to  the  highest ; 
but  we  find  it  is  now  become  a  loyalty  which,  largely 
as  it  may  share  the  spirit  of  military  glory,  has  lost 
much  of  the  sensitiveness  of  its  ancient  honor.  And 
finally,  though  we  mark  in  nearly  every  one  of  them 
that  deep  feeling  of  reverence  for  religion  which  had 
come  down  from  the  ages  of  contest  with  the  infidel 
power  of  the  Moors,  yet  we  find  it  now  constantly 
mingling  the  arrogant  fierceness  of  worldly  passion 
with  the  holiest  of  its  offerings,  and  submitting,  in  the 
spirit  of  blind  faith  and  devotion,  to  a  bigotry  whose 
decrees  were  w^ritten  in  blood.  These  multitudinous 
Spanish  heroic  poems,  therefore,  that  were  produced 
out  of  the  elements  of  the  national  character  when 
that  character  was  fjilling  into  decay,  naturally  bear 
the  marks  of  their  oi'igin.  Instead  of  reaching,  by 
the  fervid  enthusiasm  of  a  true  patriotism,  of  a  proud 
loyalty,  and  of  an  enlightened  religion,  the  elevation 


596  FAILURE    OF    HEROIC    POETRY.  [Period  II. 

to  which  they  aspire,  they  sink  away,  with  few  ^^xcep- 
tions,  into  tedious,  rhyming  chronicles,  in  which  the 
national  glory  fails  to  excite  the  interest  that  would 
belong  to  an  earnest  narrative  of  real  events,  without 
gaining  in  its  stead  anything  from  the  inspirations  of 
poetical  genius. 


END  OF  VOL.  IL 


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